The Longest Start
by HalfASlug
Summary: It's the longest start but the end's not too far away... It took Ron and Hermione years to finally get together but after just eighteen months everything is starting to crumble around them.
1. Prologue

_A/N: Hello. This is my new story. Please note that this contains my first attempt at *deep breath* a plot. I know, I know... ideas above my station, right? Just humour me for a while, I beg you._

_Stop me if you've heard this one before but this is _not _a songfic. The whole idea was devised long before I had even heard the song whose lyrics I have so lovingly stolen. When I first heard the song it struck me how well it fitted this story and I ended up naming the story and all of the chapters after its lyrics. Well, except this chapter. Although this isn't really a chapter; it's a prologue so - How about I just stop typing and let you read?_

_Disclaimer: The lyrics to 'After Midnight' belong to Blink 182 because they wrote it._

_Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling because she wrote that._

_All of the words in the middle are mine because I picked them at random and hoped they formed coherent sentences._

* * *

Prologue

Christmas Day 1998, Grimmauld Place 

_All along we talked of forever_

_I kinda think that we won't get better_

Christmas Day at The Burrow was as hectic as ever. As usual Ginny had managed to not only sneak one of her mother's homemade mince pies out of the kitchen, she had somehow passed the blame onto an unsuspecting Charlie. As Molly scolded her son's impatience and never ending appetite, Fleur muttered to Bill that at least her mother-in-law's shouts were blocking out Celestina Warbeck.

This wasn't a typical Weasley Christmas however. Instead of hiding the latest Wheeze in someone's eggnog, George was sat with Percy in the corner, neither of them talking. Since Fred had died, he had been a shadow of his former self but it had been nearly eight months since the battle and George had been having more good days than bad. Still, none of his family expected him to embrace the seasonal joy of his first Christmas alone so they allowed him his peace. Ginny had offered him a stolen mince pie but he had turned it away after complimenting her skulduggery. Instead the pie had been given to Harry who, after a brief glance at Charlie adamantly denying having even been in the kitchen, shook his head and took a bite out of it.

Another change this year was Arthur. Instead of sitting in his own world, pretending to listen to the screeches coming from the wireless, he was chatting amicably with Mr and Mrs Granger who had arrived for Christmas dinner after being all but demanded to attend by Molly. They had accepted the invitation straight away, much to the delight of their daughter, who had been torn between where to spend her Christmas. Instead of having to sneak away or disappoint someone, Hermione had opened her presents on Christmas morning at her home before the three Grangers flooed to The Burrow for a feast that Mrs Granger was visibly grateful she didn't have to prepare. Now that the sun had set on the first Christmas since Voldemort's downfall, Hermione was nowhere to be found at The Burrow. Instead she was at 12 Grimmauld Place, home of one Harry Potter. More specifically, she was in the bedroom of Harry's non-rent paying housemate, Ron Weasley, having snuck away from their families as soon as Molly had brought the wireless out.

Of course the great escape had been his idea. This was the first Christmas he and Hermione would be together in three years and their first one as a couple and not friends-with-a-lot-left-unspoken-between-them and he had wanted it to be special. This was a hard thing to achieve in a house full of perceptive Weasley's and Mr Granger's (who definitely hated him, no matter what Hermione said) watchful eye. It took only minimal coaxing and a few reminders of the bracelet he had brought her to get Hermione to agree to his plan.

So now, as the rest of their families watched in amusement as Molly asked Harry if Charlie was really in the front room with him, only for Harry to nearly choke on the large lump of pie he had tried to hastily swallow, Hermione curled up next to Ron. She watched as his eyes slipped closed and was tempted to let him go to sleep but she was too busy contemplating the sweet nothings that Ron had been whispering in her ear moments before because, while his words were undeniably sweet, they were far from nothing.

"Did you mean it?"

"Hmm?" Ron responded. He sleepily turned his head to see Hermione staring at him, wide-eyed.

"Did you mean it?" Hermione repeated in a small voice. "What you said?"

"When?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron stroked her hair that was splayed across his pillow, a sight he was sure he would never get sick of.

"You know," Hermione said, with a faint blush. "During."

Ron tried to cast his mind back to what she was talking about but drew a blank. Normally when they slept together it was a heated, passionate affair that left him with scratches down his back and her with love bites in the most peculiar of places, especially with them only seeing each other a handful of times since Hermione's return to Hogwarts. That night, however, Ron had made a special, and rare, effort to be romantic, much to Hermione's surprise and delight. In fact she had been so happy that she had jumped on him, sending him into one of the many floating candles he had bewitched, nearly setting fire to the entire house. He'd noticed a few months ago that Hermione seemed to respond well to him saying nice things about her (she had called them 'words of love' once but that sounded a bit girly for his liking) so he guessed he must have said something other than the usual "you're beautiful" but he had no idea what. Really, it was too much to ask of a bloke to remember things like words at a time like that.

Ron saw hurt and embarrassment dawn on Hermione's features in the half-light of his room and she attempted to hide her face against his chest. Sensing this was something that threatened to ruin his Perfect Christmas Plan, Ron shifted down under the navy blue duvet so he was at eye level with his girlfriend.

"Look, I'm sorry I don't remember," he said gently, "but I was a bit busy at the time." Thankfully she gave him a small smile at this. "What did I say?" He cupped her face and watched the shyness give way to blind trust in him.

Biting her lip slightly and avoiding his eyes, Hermione whispered. "You said that… this was it for you. That you wanted everything with me. That you were going to spend the rest of your life with me."

Ron rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. How stupid could he get? He hadn't even been with Hermione for a year yet and here he was, spilling his deepest fantasies to her, fantasies that would surely scare her, and during sex no less.

"Ron," he heard her say as he felt her tiny hand slide up his chest to touch his jaw. His muscles relaxed at the feeling of her skin against his and he turned to face her, shocked to see a thin veil of tears clouding her brown eyes. "Did you mean it?"

Unable to get his mouth to obey him, he simply nodded. Before they had become a couple, this level of trust and honesty was unheard of between them, now Hermione could get him to open up with one look. He swallowed the obstruction in his throat before giving her the explanation she was probably going to force out of him anyway. "I- I reckon I did. I'm just sick of being sad, y'know? I'm not sad when I'm with you."

Slowly, a smile spread across Hermione's face before she threw herself on top of Ron's torso and kissed his bemused mouth.

"Oh, Ron," she sobbed, pushing his fringe out of his eyes, the fringe she insisted he kept long enough for her to do that to, "I want it too."

"What?" choked Ron.

"The rest of our lives together."

At that moment Ron Weasley swore a hundred Dementors swarming into his room couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

"You sure?" he asked, wrapping his long arms around her. "Because that's potentially quiet a long time now that we're not on an extended camping trip with the most wanted bloke in Britain."

Hermione poked him in ribs. "Trust you to ruin a perfect moment," she tried to grumble but she spoilt it by chuckling.

She settled back against his chest and he watched as sleep started to claim her.

"Do you think anyone has noticed we're gone yet?" Ron asked, slowly ghosting her spine with his fingertips.

"Probably not," Hermione yawned. "Ginny said she'd cause a diversion and they _are_ her speciality."

Ron chuckled and placed a kiss to her forehead, before leaning close to her ear and breathing "One day, Hermione Granger, I'm going to marry you."

"Do I not get a choice in the matter?" she replied, with raised eyebrows.

"Nope."

Ron felt her smile against his ribs and knew in that moment that this wasn't going to be the last perfect Christmas they spent together.

* * *

_A/N: I know, I know I promised plot and gave you fluff. This is just the prologue. Actual stuff happens next chapter._


	2. These Nights

_A/N: Firstly thank to all reviewers/alerters/favouriters. I applaud you all for your excellent taste._

_ *applauds*_

_I'm joking. I'm not actually that arrogant. _

_Anyway, sorry the second installment took forever but I went on holiday abroad so I couldn't write, upload or respond to any messages or reviews. I was attempting to get this done before I went but I really didn't want to rush it. Plus I left my packing to the last minute. And I had tried to cure the post-England-major-tournament-knock-out blues with alcohol and writing drunk isn't advisable, kids. Neither is drinking, although it is fun when done responsibly. *end of after-school special*_

_ANYWAY, now I'm back in the land of beautiful, beautiful rain (the news isn't joking when they call it a heat wave, is it?) and not jaywalking across the land of the free, lying price tags (at what point was adding tax on at the till considered a good idea? Seriously?) and some of the most helpful homeless people I have ever met, I will hopefully be updating and responding to your reviews and messages a lot quicker._

_And FINALLY here is some fiction I decided to add on to this A/N. Laters._

_Disclaimer: Blink 182 owns After Midnight and anything that belongs to me that they want for playing an acoustic version of my favourite song off of Enema when I saw them the other week._

_J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter. I now own a set of the U.S Potter books and can't stop marveling at Wavy-Quaff!Ron and Rasputin!Snape in the chapter pictures. _

* * *

These Nights – 14th November 1999

_We'll fall apart at the weekend_

_These nights go on and on and on_

Ron took a sip of his butterbeer and placed it none too gently back down on the bar, earning a disgruntled protest from the man next to him. After a slow day at work, he, Harry and the rest of the aurors on shift had decided to come to the Leaky Cauldron for a few pints. As usual the word had spread and now the pub was filled with ministry workers who were glad to be out of their underground offices. Obviously the first person that he had invited via an inter-office memo was Hermione. She had agreed straight away and, despite arriving an hour later than everyone else because she just couldn't drag herself away from her desk, was here now and had brought along a couple of people from her department.

Ron scowled as he watched her across the pub, chatting away amicably to her colleagues. He could see the woman with dark brown hair, who he could never remember the name of so always referred to as The Other One, glaring at Hermione and Ron suppressed a chuckle. Despite starting at the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures a year before Hermione had, she was apparently still being given mostly filing duties, while Hermione was already being eyed up for a promotion to become the lead assistant for the Head of the Werewolf Services Office. Hermione regularly came home fuming about the snide comments the woman made about her only being fast-tracked because she was famous and younger.

Next to her was another woman who Ron remembered as being Hermione's assistant manager, Gwen Something-or-other. She was in her mid-twenties, a touch over-weight and Ron had always found her to be a laugh whenever he had spoken to her.

If it had only been the women then Ron would have been over there now with Hermione, cracking jokes with Gwen and praising Hermione just to annoy the other one, but unfortunately she had brought _Him _as well.

Tom Bale.

Everything about the man infuriated Ron. The way his brown hair was always neat and tidy, regardless of how over-worked he was. The way he was so laid back and easy going that people seemed to relax by being in the same room as him. The way his expensive-looking robes were never ruffled or creased. The way everyone called him _Patrick _even though it wasn't his name. Hermione had explained once that his father was also called Tom so his family addressed him by his middle name and it had stuck. Ron argued that it was stupid to name a kid something you were never going to call it which had led to an argument and he and Hermione sleeping in separate beds that night.

That was the thing that annoyed him the most: the amount of arguments he and Hermione had that seemed to be centred on _Patrick_-fucking-Bale. Of course, Ron thought, taking a swig of his drink, they wouldn't have the arguments if Bale wasn't such a smarmy tosser, who clearly thought Ron was some kind of pond life. He could remember the first time he had met Bale, on the Hogwarts Express. He had been Head Boy and had introduced Ron and the other fifth-year prefects to the rules and regulations. He had thought him a boring snob then, but now it was worse. Now he spent a lot of time with Ron's girlfriend, who didn't seem to mind one bit.

Ron watched as Bale said something that Hermione obviously found hilarious as she had started laughing. Not, Ron realised with a stab of anger, the reserved laugh she normally used in public or in front of people she didn't know, but a full-on belly laugh. Ron gripped the bar so hard his knuckles turned white. That was _his _laugh. Not Bale's, _his._ The bastard followed his joke up with another 'witty' line and Hermione actually gripped his arm for support.

Unable to take much more, Ron picked up his drink and the one he had brought for Hermione and made his way over to the group, desperately trying not to spill the drinks in his shaking hands.

"-and he didn't even realise he had done it!" he heard the tosser's voice say over a rowdy bunch from Magical Sport in the corner, who were shooting beer mats at each other with their wands. Swerving around a barmaid and her levitating tray, Ron finally reached the small group stood near the window.

"Seriously though, Hermione, you should get yourself online," Bale told Hermione earnestly.

"I doubt we could in our house," Hermione chuckled with a slight shake of her head, "even with all the renovations. The first time my parents visited, my father was locked in the bathroom because the door refused to let him out."

Trying not to laugh at the memory of having to rescue Mr Granger from the first floor bathroom at Grimmauld Place and having to explain the house's anti-Muggle leanings, Ron nudged his way in between Hermione and Bale.

"Here you go, love," he smiled as he passed her the drink he had brought her. She took it and gave him that smile he treasured more than his own heartbeat.

"Ooh thanks!" she said before taking a small sip.

"You sound a bit surprised."

His face hardening into stone, Ron turned to see Bale addressing Hermione and he fought down the urge to punch him. He had been in his company an entire five seconds. It was a new record.

"I didn't mean it like that, Ron," Hermione said soothingly.

"I know," Ron replied, trying not to let his annoyance show through. He was sick of arguing all the time and was determined to have a nice drink with his girlfriend despite the present company. She rubbed his arm in a calming manner, which usually helped him when he was on edge, but this time it just reminded him of how she had been touching Bale's arm just before he had arrived.

"How long is it you two have been together now?" Bale asked, tipping his bottle of butterbeer towards the couple.

"Um…"

"Just over eighteen months," answered Hermione with an annoyed glance at Ron for hesitating, while Gwen said "Aww" and gave them an affectionate look.

Meanwhile Hermione's other female colleague rolled her eyes and sarcastically drawled, "What a lovely couple."

Ignoring the jealous bitch's latest dig at Hermione, Ron bit the side of his cheek to stop him snapping at Hermione for her thinking he didn't know how long ago they'd been together. Of course he knew! He knew the date and time of their first kiss, the first "I love you" and the first time they had slept together. He could've even given her a score out of ten for all of them (ten, eleven and sixty-four respectively) if that had been the question. His ability to work out how long ago those things happened off the top of his head surely wasn't how she was going to work out how much he loved her, was it? What did she expect him to do? Wake up every morning and work out exactly how many days, hours and seconds it had been?

Bale would probably have known obviously. He would give his girlfriend flowers on their seventy-four day anniversary and give her a necklace on date number twenty-seven. Ron glared at the smug face that had just turned to him, his cold, blue eyes mocking him, knowing that he had asked the question on purpose to make him look stupid in front of Hermione.

"She should be used to you buying her drinks after eighteen months," Baled jibed, nudging Ron with his elbow.

"I'm sure she would think it was rude to expect me to buy drinks for her, _Tom_," Ron scowled. He may not be winning _Witch Weekly's Gentleman of the Year Award _any time soon but he still liked to think he was a good boyfriend. Somehow, in just two sentences, Bale had insinuated he was mistaken for a multitude of reasons.

Bale's eyes narrowed slightly at the use of his given name. "Didn't mean anything by it, _Ronald_," he said plainly.

At the use of _his_ given name, Ron tightened his grip on his drink so that his fingers started to ache and he felt his ears go red.

"Now, now, girls," laughed Gwen shakily, "you both have pretty hair."

Gwen's attempt to break the tension worked and everyone in their group laughed, Bale included. Ron gave a weak smile. It was all he was capable of when his ears were full of Bale's ridiculous sounding chortle. Unable to look at him anymore, Ron looked to his left to see Hermione glaring at him and his stomach shrank. Something told him it was going to take every bit of his will power and charm to prevent him sleeping alone tonight.

Before Ron could even attempt to swallow his pride, Hermione had already turned back to Bale.

"You were saying, Patrick?" she asked in a voice of forced politeness. "About the internet?"

"Oh yes," nodded Bale, "still look into getting it. Soon the web will be everywhere-"

"Web?" yelped Ron. "What web?"

Everyone turned to him and Ron mentally kicked himself. He had obviously said something stupid but he didn't know what. A web of any description being 'everywhere' was surely a matter for concern.

"It's nothing to do with spiders, Ron," Hermione reassured him kindly and Ron relaxed. He loved how she somehow knew what he was thinking all the time. Admittedly it could be annoying at times, but the line between annoyance and affection had always been blurry when it came to Hermione.

"I was going to say…" Ron began after a sip of his drink before Bale interrupted him.

"Is the auror afraid of spiders?" he asked incredulously. Gwen looked resigned; she was used to Bale and Ron's interactions by now. So was The Other One, however, instead of being bored and uncomfortable, she looked amused, much to Ron's embarrassment.

"No!" Ron lied, feeling his ears burn red as he did. "I mean, I'm not their biggest fan but-"

"You're afraid of spiders!" exclaimed Bale, now laughing openly. "Maybe I could sign up for the aurors..."

Thinking the chances of the auror office letting in someone who ran away into hiding the year Voldemort took over were pretty low, especially someone who looked as though they had never duelled in their whole privileged life like Bale did, Ron shot a glare at Hermione for bringing up his arachnophobia. He had enough trouble stopping Bale making him look like a fool; he didn't need her helping him.

"He had a run-in with a family of acromatula a few years ago," Hermione explained. She flashed Ron a quick apologetic smile and he tried to give her one in return but his face failed him. While he could always count on Hermione having his back, Ron couldn't help but notice that she hadn't all out denied it but just made excuses for him. In fact she had lied. She knew full well his fear pre-dated his meeting with Aragog by several years. She knew the story about his teddy bear, the broken broomstick and Fred.

Ron took another swig of his drink and ended up downing over half of it. Being reminded of Fred wasn't going to help him keep his head. The dangerous mix of alcohol, Bale and grief was churning inside of him.

"Really?" he heard Gwen ask, sounding sincerely interested. "What happened?"

"Yippee," said The Other One snorted. "Another _Hermione Granger's Adventures in Hogwarts_ story."

"Well," Hermione said, giving no indication that she heard The Other One speak, "I wasn't there-"

"So maybe it was just a lie to impress you?" cut in Bale humourously.

"Bloody hell, Patrick," Gwen said, eyeing Ron with admiration. "It's impressing me! No offense intended, Hermione," she added, smiling at Hermione. Hermione opened her mouth, probably to tell Gwen she knew that she had meant nothing by her comment, but Ron had already spoken.

"What are you trying to say?" he fired at Bale aggressively. Ron didn't like being called a liar, especially by this prick. Who was he to judge Ron anyway? Bale didn't know him. He didn't know what it was like to have spiders big enough to carry him try to kill him. He didn't know Ron had only just turned thirteen when the incident had occurred. More importantly, Bale didn't know the first thing about his relationship with Hermione, how it had been built on more than a few casual dates and some impressive chat-up lines.

"Just seems convenient," Bale shrugged before taking a sip of his Firewhiskey. "I remember after that Triwizard task that your story differed slightly from the version Cho told us in Ravenclaw."

"I wish I'd still been at Hogwarts for that," Gwen jumped in, spotting the obvious need for some drastic distraction to keep Ron and Bale from starting a huge argument in the middle of the pub. "Well, obviously not the last part, but you know what I mean," she back-tracked. "Drink anyone? Hermione? Drella?"

Hermione shook her head but Drella – _Drella, he'd have to remember that this time –_ downed the rest of her drink in response to Gwen's desperate call for escape and moved to the bar with her, leaving Ron alone with Bale and Hermione.

Ron didn't have to look at Hermione to know that she was angry with him. She had probably only refused to get another drink to keep an eye on him. The three of them stood in an incredibly awkward silence and waited for the others to return, meaning than Ron had time to stew in his own frustration. He wanted another drink but he wasn't going to leave Hermione alone with Bale.

Why couldn't anyone else see what was going on here? Bale clearly had a thing for _his _girlfriend. He took every opportunity to make Ron look like an idiot or show everyone how he was better. Ron wouldn't mind if Hermione would just realise this, but she insisted they were just colleagues and that Ron was being unreasonable.

The first time he had implied she might like Bale in any other way, Hermione had refused to speak to him for a week. Eventually Ron had shelved his pride and apologised for saying that of course she didn't fancy the good-looking, rich intellectual who supported her views on elf rights and whatever else it was they did at work. Of course, he hadn't put it like that; he wasn't that stupid.

Ron's thoughts were broken into by a small cough to his right. He turned to see Bale looking sheepish, his blinding white teeth, shining in a contrite smile.

"Sorry about all that, Ron," he said with doleful expression on his stupid pompous face. "I was just joking. I honestly didn't mean anything."

He held out his hand for Ron to shake. Ron stared at it, wanting nothing more than to snap it right off, but he caught a pointed glare from Hermione and obliged.

"I know," Ron shrugged, quickly letting go and hoping he'd had have the opportunity to wash his hand soon. He gave the smallest possible smile he could and Bale returned it with interest. At this, Ron felt his blood turn to ice. He didn't know what it was but every time he met Bale's eyes, he was always struck by how cold they were, like there was nothing behind them. The man had a smooth answer for everything but it was always so automated, so frozen, like he was an actor, trained for every circumstance. It was unnerving.

Ron felt Hermione's foot press down on his own. Instead of jumping in shock, he looked to see her staring at him. Her eyes, unlike Bale's, always showed how she felt. Right now, they were burning, screaming at him.

"Nothing else you'd like to say, Ron?" she asked as politely as she could through gritted teeth.

He couldn't believe it. She actually wanted him to apologise! Who was she? His mum? Bale had started the whole thing. She was there, she had seen it. There was no way Ron was going to say sorry for sticking up for himself.

"Did you see the Tornadoes score last night?" Ron said to Bale as brightly as he could manage. "Wasn't that The Pride's first win this season?" He took a sip of his drink and watched with pleasure as Bale's cold smile become strained.

"Yes, I did. They played well, I'll give them that," Bale replied diplomatically.

"Oh, of course!" Ron cried, not caring how obvious he was being. "I forgot you're a fan. Shame about your seeker being out for the rest of the season, isn't it?"

"It is," nodded Bale, tipping his glass towards Ron. "Not as bad as being a Beater down because he flew into a goal post and then knocked his own Keeper out with his bat, but still a shame."

Before Ron could retort, he felt a small hand clap him on the back and turned to see Gwen and - Ellen wasn't it? - had returned.

"Oh, that was hilarious!" laughed Gwen. "I know you're a die-hard Cannons supporter, Ron, but you have to admit that was pretty spectacular, even for them."

Despite his Quidditch team's embarrassing failure, Ron smiled. He had been a Cannon's fan for most of his life and was therefore used to the constant ribbing from other fans. He knew that Gwen, unlike Bale, didn't mean it as a personal attack.

"All right, all right," sighed Ron with a roll of his eyes. "Just because the Arrow's are top at the league and-"

"Ooh," she squealed in delight, "say it again."

"Oh look," Hermione interrupted stonily, "there's Harry. Let's go and speak to him."

"But-" protested Ron, but Hermione had gripped him painfully tight around the elbow.

"See you tomorrow, everyone," she said brightly to the group before yanking Ron away, leaving them all looking a bit confused. Ron glanced over Hermione's head and saw they were not heading in the direction of their mutual best friend and knew he was in for a bollocking, one that he was more than prepared for.

As expected, Hermione managed to find the quietest corner of the pub, stopped, spun around and took a deep breath. Ron counted three whole seconds in his head before Hermione eventually realised that no amount of air was going to calm her down and she snapped. Even though a small part of him was scared and an even smaller part felt a bit guilty, Ron felt proud of himself for bringing proper little Hermione Granger to breaking point, like only he could. Not anyone else, not even Bale… Him.

"Why you must you act like this in front of my colleagues?" she hissed. "You're embarrassing me!"

"I was just talking about Quidditch!" Ron guffawed. "That's hardly-"

"You know full well that that isn't what I'm referring to," growled Hermione in a low voice.

"Dunno what you mean."

Her eyes widened slightly at his stubborn tone and careless shrug, but Ron stared her down. Later this would blow up into a huge screaming match, but Ron knew she wouldn't cause a scene in such a public place, not since a journalist had overheard one of their less serious rows a couple of weeks after the battle and _Witch Weekly_ and all the other girly magazines had made their 'Public Break-up' front page news for a month.

Ron didn't care either way. At least if the papers said they were on the rocks it meant everyone would still know that she was with him. At least he had her attention. At least she wouldn't be talking to Bale. At least she still cared enough to be angry.

Hermione looked at him for a long time and Ron thought he saw something like sadness in her deep, brown eyes. Instantly he regretted ever goading Bale about his Quidditch team or whatever else it was he had done to make her look like that.

"Is this what it is going to be like every time you two are in the same room?" she asked him quietly.

He knew he should have said sorry. He knew he should have said he was wrong and she was right. He knew he should have said that he wasn't jealous of her friendship with Bale and all the time she spent with him, that it was great that she had made friends at work and that they should invite him around for dinner one night, but he couldn't. Ron knew he had problems when it came to seeing Hermione with other blokes but this was different; this time it was justified.

This time he was right and she was wrong and not the upset written all over Hermione's pretty face or the knowledge that he would have his bed to himself tonight was going to make him say otherwise, so Ron said nothing.

"I'm going home," Hermione announced sharply. "Say goodbye to Harry for me. Don't bother seeing me out."

Without another word, Hermione brushed passed Ron and made her way through the crowd to the Muggle street outside. Ron watched her and, for what could've been the millionth time since she had stormed into his life all those years ago, tried to suppress the swelling sense of guilt, shame and confusion that always accompanied Hermione Granger walking away from him.

* * *

_A/N 2: Yup. Another one._

_Firstly, I know. First a plot and now an O/C. What next? Writing my own characters in a world of my own invention and not being a parasite on the belly of a huge publishing phenomenon? Who knows? _

_Secondly, congratulations to any Spanish readers on winning the Euro. I would feel sorry for any Italians but it still hurts._

_Thirdly, thanks for reading._


	3. Bite Your Lips

_A/N: This chapter would have been up sooner but a mixture of procrastination, slight re-writes and life getting in the way delayed me. Sorry about that. I promise to get better at this updating thing._

_Thanks to all reviewers/alerters/favouriters as ever. __Also, more than once now, I've been told by other writers that some of you have mentioned/recommended SSY to them and they now plan on reading it. I have no idea who you are but thank you so much. While the idea of word spreading about my fics is a bit scary it is also incredibly nice and I'm so, so grateful. __It's these little things that time and time again convince me that Potterheads are the nicest people on Earth._

_So while I'm here and in a good, spread the love kind of mood, here are a couple of recommendations:_

_Closer by TenderHooligan – It may be nearly over but it is R/Hr angst at its best. Blow out arguments and tons of soul-searching. _

_An Unconventional Fairytale (and its little sister story Fairytale Droppings) by ozzel1 – Funny and original snapshots of post-war Ron and Hermione that seem to get better every chapter. _

_Crossing Paths by Athenais777 – Ron and Hermione mixed with how the Malfoys and the trio learnt to live with each other after the war. It sounds like a strange mix but it's becoming one of my favourite post-war fics._

_Almost Everything I Wish I'd Said by hey-torch – R/Hr again, but c'mon, you know you love it. It's Deathly Hallows with a twist. Sounds like a familiar premise but trust me – you haven't read this one before._

_Disclaimer: Blink 182 owns After Midnight, J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and I can't believe I'm struggling to think of funny disclaimers after only three chapters. _

* * *

Bite Your Lips

4:30pm, 15th November 1999

_Bite your lips_

_Your word's a robbery_

_Do you grin inside?_

_You're killing me_

Thanks to Kingsley, the entire Ministry had been remodelled after the war. Every department was a mess: understaffed, corrupt and broke. It was herculean task to sort it all out, but Kingsley had done brilliantly. First he had concentrated on assigning people who he trusted to become department heads (all of the previous ones had been Death Eaters or were in Azkaban for various other crimes) and then allowed them to handle their own areas with his strict supervision.

Meanwhile, Hermione had returned to Hogwarts to complete her final year. After she had finished, she had received job offers from every single department in the Ministry, including Magical Games and Sports, much to Ron's amusement. Some, such as the Department of Mysteries, were interesting, but the majority were obviously just offered to her because she was well-known. All of them were for supervisor positions - something that just wasn't offered to school-leavers normally.

The only exception had luckily been the only department Hermione had really been interested in: Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. Due to the way Kingsley had to prioritise certain departments over others (a week after the battle, there were only six people left in Magical Law Enforcement, the biggest department), they had been left near the bottom of the pile with minimal funds. Thinking they would be unable to afford the huge salary Hermione Granger was likely to demand for her talents, they had offered her a starter position in one of their new offices - the Office of Law Reversal.

Under Voldemort, several laws were passed that didn't just allow but encouraged the mistreatment of various magical creatures. After the war, all three divisions of the department discovered it was much harder to get laws revoked than it did to get them passed - especially when you have an evil tyrant's puppet for a Minister. In fact, most departments now had a similar office.

With a skeleton staff, they had somehow rewritten half of the unjust laws and policies but were still struggling. After months of Gwen complaining to her superior that they needed an extra pair of hands, she was shocked to be rewarded with Hermione accepting their offer. Soon the shock faded to relief that she wasn't the spoilt diva they had expected. The relief quickly turned to sheer joy that they had somehow landed an incredible mind, who passionately cared about her work, handed in everything before the deadline and thought nothing of doing hours of over-time.

After she had clocked out after her first complete week at her first job, Gwen had requested that Hermione come and see her in her miniature office. Scared that she had done something wrong, Hermione had followed Gwen into her office, sat down and waited while Gwen stared at her. After an uncomfortable minute, the assistant manager had asked Hermione in a weak voice if she was actually real.

Four months later, Hermione was sat in the tiny office that she shared with Patrick and Drella, hunched over her desk, staring at the parchment in front of her, wishing she had some extra work to do to prevent her going home. She hadn't seen Ron this morning and was relieved when she remembered that he was spending his day off from the Ministry, helping out George with the new Wheezes branch in Hogsmeade. Not only would she not accidentally bump into him, but he couldn't visit her in her office before she was ready to see him.

"I can't see Mrs Robbins agreeing to a change in any of the current Werewolf Employment Laws," said Patrick from her right. His voice sounded far-off, barely penetrating her thoughts. The more she thought about it, the more Hermione didn't know how to react the next time she saw Ron.

"Especially as most of the ones we want appealed date back to long before Thicknesse was Minister, but there's no real harm in trying."

Was she too harsh on him? It had become hard to tell if she was reacting to what Ron was doing and saying or what she knew he could start doing or saying. On a couple of occasions he had been so unreasonable that he had actually apologised. She hadn't forgiven him straight away which had led to another row which, inevitably, led to make-up sex.

"Hopefully Hopkirk will back us up."

_Merlin, _how she missed the make-up sex…

"Maybe even Shacklebolt could lean on her a bit."

Or just making-up. She definitely missed the sex. How long had it been now?

"If only good ol' Pius were still Minister… At least then the canteen had decent sandwiches."

"What?" blurted out Hermione, snapping out of her reminiscing. She had learnt the hard way that thinking about sex at work led to her being all hot and bothered. Not to mention hastily scribbled notes to Ron, quick visits to Grimmauld Place on their lunch breaks and the occasional broken piece of furniture.

"Just checking that you were still listening," smiled Patrick with a wink.

"I'm sorry, Patrick," Hermione sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I know I've not been my best today."

"Don't worry," he replied, waving away her apology. "Even when you're at half-power, you're still better than Drella."

"Don't talk to me about her," murmured Hermione, holding up her hands as if to physically stop all mentions of that vile cow in their tracks. "Did you hear what she said earlier about me having to '_autograph_' those reports? I went through the same interview process she did. I have all the necessary qualifications. I do all my work on time and to the-"

"Preaching to the choir here, Hermione."

Hermione looked back at Patrick to see him shaking with the effort of not laughing.

"Sorry," cringed Hermione. "She just really-"

"I know," he sighed, as he started gathering the scrolls of parchment he had brought over to her desk to show her.

With what felt like great effort, Hermione sat back forward and began to reread the wording of the latest version of Lupin's Law. If they managed to get it approved by the Head of the Department then maybe it would stand a chance with the Wizengamot and werewolves would finally be allowed to enter a contract of employment again, a right stripped from them by Umbridge. She and Patrick had been working on it for months. Instead of his original plan of just trying the get the unjust law revoked, they had gone with Hermione's idea of aiming for much fairer treatment and a zero-toleration for discrimination.

As well as their day to day work, the pair of them had been working to get the proposal perfect. Neither of them had done anything this big before; in fact, it was unheard of for someone only four months out of Hogwarts like Hermione to even attempt such change. Between her determination and research skills and Patrick's contacts from his old position in International Co-Operation in more werewolf-friendly countries such as the Netherlands and Finland, they had put together something Gwen had told Hermione that they should be exceptionally proud of.

There had been no doubt from either of them over about what name to give the law if it were passed. Hermione had suggested 'Lupin' almost immediately and Patrick, remembering the professor he had respected and who had helped him score highly in his Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL, agreed straight away.

Before she had even read the first line though, Patrick had spoken again. "I'm sorry about last night by the way."

"Oh."

Hermione froze, quill in hand, eyes on the parchment in front of her. All day she had been avoiding the topic of her hasty exit last night. She had lost count of the amount of awkward work days she had had to endure because of Ron. About three months ago, when he had first started meeting her so that they could go to lunch together, Hermione had been thrilled. Soon, however, she had realised his attentiveness had come from wanting to show Patrick that they were together and their first row on the subject had occurred.

Since then, the whole thing had escalated to the point where Hermione felt she couldn't talk about work in front of him because Ron would turn it around to her spending too much time with Patrick. At first, every time the three of them had been near each other, Ron would make sure he was touching her in some way at all times, including everything from having his arm around her to highly inappropriate groping.

When she had told him that she hated his shows of possessiveness, Ron had started thinking she was ashamed of him. She finally managed to convince him that she was nothing of the sort only for Ron to switch tactics and to start acting ridiculously immature and defensive, misinterpreting everything that Patrick said to him and ended up spoiling for a fight.

The previous night hadn't been the worst occasion, but at the rate Ron had been drinking it would have only been a matter of time before he had done something completely out of line. Hermione hoped that Patrick would sense her unwillingness to discuss what had happened, but she wasn't so lucky.

"I know that Ron is a great Auror and I shouldn't have brought up his Quidditch team," continued he, sincerely.

"It's fine, Patrick," Hermione replied shortly, unable to meet his eyes. She went to dip her quill into her ink bottle and continue working, only to discover it was empty.

"No, I was rude and I apologise," he pushed.

Hermione looked up to see that he looked genuinely remorseful and she sighed as she dropped her quill and folded her hands together in her lap.

"Patrick-" she began.

"Hermione."

Hermione frowned as she looked at Patrick's raised eyebrows, his playful tone and the hint of a smile playing around his mouth. Since the end of the war it was rare for her to find people who treated her like a real person and not some kind of Super-Woman or Harry Potter's free-loading friend. Since she had started at the Ministry, it had been hard to know who was treating her seriously and who just wanted to brag about having met her.

Patrick had been different from the moment they had met. As she had replaced him as the newest employee in their office, he seemed to empathise with her nerves and had happily shown her the ropes and invited her to after-work get-togethers during her first week. Between his friendship and Gwen's support, Hermione had fully enjoyed the first three months of her working life.

She just wished her personal life hadn't taken such a nose dive in contrast.

"I accept your apology," Hermione said, leaning forward to pluck a piece of parchment she needed out of Patrick's hand, "even if you've already made one."

"And now I can rest easy tonight," he chuckled, mopping pretend sweat from his brow.

"I have told you before not to bait him like that." Even though she couldn't meet his eyes, Hermione felt the easy smile fall from Patrick's face.

"I know," she heard him say quietly. "I thought he'd know I was joking by now."

"Well, he doesn't."

"Sorry."

Hermione glanced up to see Patrick was looking at his new-looking shoes that squeaked loudly when he walked, a look of genuine remorse on his face. She waited until he had met her eyes before continuing.

"It's hard for me to be in the middle of the two of you swinging your clubs around," she said quietly.

"I know," Patrick said again with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I am trying to get along with him."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You're not making it any easier for yourself though." She smiled back but found that it slipped from her face as guilt started to creep up on her. "I'm sorry about Ron making it difficult," she said uncomfortably, her gaze on Patrick's right shoulder. She had never apologised for Ron before and she couldn't help but feel uneasy about it. It felt a bit like sneaking around behind his back, but she knew he would never apologise himself.

To her immense relief, Patrick merely shrugged and grinned at her.

"No need to be."

"No," Hermione insisted with a shake of head, "he has been _incredibly_ rude and I apologise."

"It really isn't an issue," replied Patrick. "He had probably had a hard day and didn't need me poking fun."

"If you say so," Hermione said under her breath. "Although if you're right, Ron has been having the toughest few weeks anyone has ever known." She pulled out a new bottle of ink and slammed her desk drawer shut. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Patrick jump and she quickly dropped her anger at her boyfriend. "Oh, I'm sorry for unloading this on you. It's hardly professional."

"Hey, don't worry about it," he assured her, patting her lightly on the shoulder before heading back to his own desk across from her. "It's what friends are for, right?"

Hermione gave him a grateful smile, wishing she didn't need to vent her frustration out on him. He needed her to be working at her best if this proposal had a chance of becoming reality, not whinging about her boyfriend. If only Ron could see what a great team they made, without his vision being clouded by jealousy, then he would see that she saw Patrick as nothing more than a colleague with whom she could bring real change to the world. It was the exact thing he had told her that he supported her doing, so why, when she was so close, was he trying to sabotage it by making her miserable?

Even though she was meant to finish at five, Hermione didn't leave her desk until gone six when a tired Gwen had come back from a late-running departmental management meeting and, after expressing shock that Hermione was still there, had threatened to sack her if she didn't start finishing on time. Hermione had begged for a few more minutes, but Gwen had simply flicked her wand, sending all of the parchmentwork on Hermione's desk into her bag and told her to go outside, informing her they had such wonders out there as grass, bunny rabbits and ice cream.

When she had finally got home, Hermione had gone straight to her room to finish up the work Gwen had stopped her from finishing earlier. Even though she lived with Ron, she still had her own room. When they had first got together, they had both agreed that neither of them wanted it to affect their friendship with Harry which had led to the 'Not In Front of Harry Rule'. Basically displays of affection were not to be made while they were in the same room as Harry. Harry, upon hearing that they had such a rule, had laughed himself stupid and told them not to bother because he had been watching their foreplay for years.

Despite his jokes, Hermione and Ron had kept to the rule and, when she had moved in with the boys after finishing Hogwarts, had chosen her own room to prevent Harry feeling like a third wheel in any way. Admittedly Ron had spent most of his nights in her room because it was tidier as well as further away from Harry's room than his own, but it was still nice to have somewhere private to keep her personal belongings and spend time alone when the boys were being, well… _boys_.

After a couple of hours though, she was in desperate need of a break and a drink. She carefully snuck down from her first floor room, to the kitchen in the hope of avoiding Ron as she wasn't ready to forgive him just yet. Unfortunately, just when she thought she might be safe, Hermione opened the door to the basement and found Ron, sat at the table, munching on a monstrous looking sandwich that could have only been created by him.

Their eyes met for a split second before Hermione continued her journey to the kettle on the opposite side of the kitchen to him. She pulled out her wand and tapped it twice, once to fill it and the second to speed up the boiling process. Normally she enjoyed doing this the Muggle way, but at the minute she just wanted to get out of the kitchen as quickly as possible.

"Hi."

Hermione ignored Ron's tentative greeting and busied herself in the cupboard, looking for a mug to use.

"Hermione, please-"

"I'm still not speaking to you, Ron."

"Oh, come on-"

"No!" she snapped, slamming her chosen mug on the counter. "You acted like a complete troll last night! Again!"

"How?" he protested. Hermione took a deep breath and begged for patience. She knew where this conversation was going.

"Patrick just has to say one thing," she said in a dangerously low voice, "and you jump on it like he insulted every member of your family twice!"

"Not true. Usually he attacks one Weasley - me!" She heard Ron hit the wooden table with his fist and closed her eyes. "And you never defend me!"

The kettle was whistling somewhere in the background but Hermione didn't move to continue making her tea. Her ears were ringing with the sound of Ron's accusation, her frustration with the whole situation and the horrible feeling that nothing she could do could stop this spinning out of control. Together, they were reaching a crescendo that threatened to rip her ear drums apart.

"I have defended you plenty of times!" she exclaimed.

"Really?"

"But when you are being deliberately difficult-"

"Deliberately difficult?" repeated Ron. "What do you want me to do? Stand there and take it?"

"No," spat Hermione, finally turning on the spot to glare at Ron, who she was unsurprised to see had stood up by this point. "I want you to accept that Patrick doesn't breathe for the sole purpose of insulting and belittling you!"

"I know he doesn't," Ron replied harshly. "Every other breath is saved for leering over you!"

Hermione covered her face with her hand. Maybe if she didn't watch then it wouldn't really happen? "Oh, for the love of Merlin-"

"And you let him!" Ron roared over her.

"Let him what, Ron?" Hermione cried. "Talk to me? Be in the same building as me? Gosh, what an awful person I am to have friends."

"I have no problem with you having friends-"

"I didn't realise that I needed to have your permission," she said sarcastically, her eyes narrowed into slits.

"Stop twisting my words!"

"Stop being a paranoid imbecile!"

"Paranoid?" Ron repeated angrily. "Why can't you see the way he looks at you?"

"Because I'm too busy making sure you don't completely-"

Hermione stopped mid-sentence, her mouth still open, full of her latest retort, as the kitchen door opened and an annoyed looking Harry edged in. She hadn't even heard him come down the stairs over her and Ron's shouts.

"Just getting some crisps," he muttered as he made his way over to the cupboard.

Unable to look at either of them, Hermione awkwardly stared at the wall to her left and tried to ignore the uncomfortable atmosphere. She could hear Harry rummage for his snack. She could feel Ron's heated gaze boring into the side of her face.

This was Harry's house. He was kind enough to let her live here, without paying rent. (Although she paid for most of the food. Much to Harry's frustration, Ron, every time he went to the shops for them, gave him back more money in change than he originally left with.) And here she was, making him feel excluded by arguing with Ron.

It seemed the 'Not In Front of Harry' rule even applied to blow-out arguments.

Harry left without so much as another glance at either of them, leaving them with the pregnant silence he had created.

"Great," Hermione muttered, shame filling her. "Now I have to apologise to Harry as well."

"You started this one- wait," Ron broke off. "_As well?_"

Hermione watched as Ron's face, already ruddy with anger, turn almost purple and opened her mouth, but couldn't think of the words to defend herself. After a few attempts, Hermione finally found her voice, though it wasn't as strong as before.

"You didn't honestly expect me not to say something-"

Ron actually growled, his hands pulling his hair out, and spun around so couldn't see her.

"-after the way you spoke to him!" continued Hermione, getting gradually louder.

"You can't _apologise _for me!" yelled Ron as he twisted back around and took a step forward. The closer he got, the more the height difference became obvious. Though most would find this intimidating, Hermione had been here far too many times to back down.

She did have one weakness though: his eyes. Right now they were filled with betrayal and shock. He couldn't believe she had done it. If she were honest with herself, neither could she.

"I know!" she said, feeling the beginnings of tears. "I'm sorry!"

"Then why-"

"Because I am sick and tired of this ridiculous thing between you and Patrick!" she screamed over him. "We work together. That is it."

Ron backed away at the change of her tone. It was no longer angry but desperate, desperate for him to understand, for this horrible fight to end.

"You are treating me," Hermione said through heavy breaths, "like I'm cheating on you."

For all Hermione knew, it could've been days that they stared at each other, her begging for reason, Ron for the truth, before he spoke.

"I never see you refusing to speak to him," Ron sneered.

For years that sneer had been a challenge, a call to arms. Now it just made the small part of her that wasn't angry, miserable.

"He admits when he is out of line."

Ron snorted an ugly humourlessly laugh. "So you want me to apologise when I've done nothing wrong!"

"Nothing-" Hermione started before her mouth dropped open. "You have the most warped sense of right and wrong of anyone I have ever met!"

"Really?" Ron fired back. "Well maybe _YOU_ have the most warped sense of 'Just Friends' of anyone _I_ have ever met!"

"If you _dare,_" whispered Hermione dangerously while pointing at Ron,_ "_accuse me of being unfaithful _one more time_-"

"Stop giving me reason to then," he interrupted, glaring at her, his eyes burning.

"You-"

She couldn't have told you why, but it was at that moment that Hermione felt the anger, the hurt and the fight, leave her. Maybe it was that it seemed like Ron genuinely thought she was capable of such a thing. Maybe it was because she suddenly felt more tired than she could ever remember feeling.

"I can't do this again," she whispered, her eyes on the ceiling, blinking back the tears she was now too exhausted to hold back.

"What?"

Hermione looked back down at Ron, still in his defensive stance and shook her head.

"This argument," she explained, lifting her arms up and letting them slap back against her sides. "Every other day."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" He sounded scared. Under the anger, there were definitely traces of fear.

"I can't keep living like this, Ron," Hermione dry sobbed. "Us at each other's throats and going over the same things… It can't be healthy."

"Well, if you would just listen to me-" Ron began heatedly.

"I think I've heard enough already!" cut in Hermione, finding her final reserve of irritation. "All I hear is that you can't trust me like I trust you. You work with lots of girls and I have _never_ said _one word_ about it. It's like you aren't ready for a serious relationship!"

"For fuck's-" groaned Ron. "Is that another jab about Lavender?"

"Oh, you are ever so perceptive," she retorted derisively.

"If I am so _perceptive_," mocked Ron,_ "_then maybe I'm right about Bale being a complete wanker!"

"YOU JUST CAN'T STOP, CAN YOU?"

"NOT UNTIL YOU SEE SENSE!"

The air around them filled with the sound of their quick breaths, Hermione noted how quickly she could go from utterly defeated to furious again so quickly without noticing. It was like second nature to them both.

She wasn't enjoying the arguments anymore. Being in the same room as him was suffocating for all of the wrong reasons. If someone didn't do something quickly, Hermione knew they would implode, leaving nothing behind for them to collect afterwards.

"That's it. I need time away from this," Hermione said, gesturing between the two of them. "Tomorrow… I'm moving back in with my parents."

A heartbeat of silence.

"Empty threat," said Ron, his lips barely moving.

"Watch me," Hermione growled before storming out of the kitchen and slamming the door behind her.

She was already half-way up the stairs before Ron had flung the door back open and yelled, "Where are you going?"

Hermione spun around and glared down at the red face below hers. "The Burrow? Work? I don't know!" she screamed hysterically. She started back up the stairs, adding, "Anywhere that you aren't!"

She wrenched her cloak from the hook in the hallway, noting how glad she was that Mrs Black's portrait no longer hung there (It really was amazing what Kreacher was capable of doing when he liked you) with all the raised voices.

"Well, you've got to come back some time," she heard Ron shout from behind her as she reached the front door, "and I'll be right here when you do because this isn't over!"

As the heavy door slammed behind her, silencing anything else Ron had to say, Hermione bit back a sob as she hoped that despite all of the stress, arguments and harsh words, that Ron's final statement was correct; that it really wasn't over.


	4. Hurt For Real

_A/N: Thank you to all reviewers/alerters/favouriters. I love you all. A lot. Especially Cupid's Heart of Gold for teaching me a new word –bloviate. Please remember the love._

_For those of you who were wondering, this is story is only nine chapters long so we are nearly half way through. Yay?_

_I have not been this scared of posting a chapter since the first chapter of my first fic, when I was convinced people would ask me to kindly lop off my own hands to prevent me writing ever again. _

_Was that really only two months ago?_

_Time to suck up that Gryffindor courage again._

* * *

_Disclaimer: Blink 182 owns After Midnight and will always be there to welcome you home._

_J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and for a hobby makes bombs._

* * *

Hurt For Real

7:30pm. 16th November, 1999

_Hold on as we crash into the Earth_

_A bit of pain will help you suffer when you're hurt for real_

What the fuck had he done?

Ron had been staring at her abandoned mug for fuck knows how long now.

It hadn't moved.

Neither had he since he had heard the slam of the front door and had slumped into the nearest chair.

Maybe if he stayed there and the mug stayed on the counter then nothing else would change? Hermione would come back, they'd both mumble apologies and explanations and, before either of them knew it, they'd be shagging on the table. Afterwards, she'd be guilty because it was Harry's house after all and he'd be laughing at the way she bit her lip and somehow managed to look so demure without her top on.

For now though, the mug was on the counter, Ron was on the chair and Hermione was somewhere else.

What had made tonight so different? Nothing new had been said. They'd just gone over their old ground, rehashing old points, pouring salt in old wounds…

Her apologising for him had been new though.

Fury swirled in Ron's gut and he clenched his fists. How fucking _dare_ she? What? Couldn't he even decide when he was wrong anymore? If she could just show him that she didn't think he was a waste of space once in a while, maybe he would believe her about Bale.

Ron sighed and leant back in his chair. Without Bale they would be fine; things only started getting like this after she started being friends with him. Before she would shine with pride when they were in public together, now she seemed hell bent on bringing him down.

The little things that got him through the day were gone. Those secret smiles she'd give him, the arm around his waist in front of her dad's eagle eyes, waking up to find her staring at him with a slight blush, good luck messages before work, the morning kisses he was too tired to remember properly, the way she'd laugh at his shit jokes, her adorably shy expression after sucking him off, her fingers through his hair, lips on his cheek, body against his, _her…_

Letting his head fall with a thud against the table, Ron reminded himself that this was her fault. Yeah, so he wasn't the best boyfriend the world had ever seen, but he'd done nothing to deserve this. Maybe if they had just talked through this some more then they could get out of this sodding rut? Her running away didn't help anyone. After everything they'd been through, what made this so unfixable?

_Fine, _Ron thought, pressing his sore head more firmly against the table, _she can have her space. She can realise how out of order she was being and _she _can come crawling back to _me.

Like hell was he going to abandon his dignity, the little she'd allowed him to have, and start crying over her.

"Is it safe to come into my own kitchen yet?"

"Sorry, Harry," mumbled Ron, head still planted on the table top.

"I'm meeting Ginny in fifteen minutes," complained Harry, as Ron heard him enter the room and start opening cupboards at random, "and I haven't been able to have dinner because-"

"I said sorry, didn't I?" interrupted Ron. He lifted his head off the table to glare at his best mate, who had changed his clothes since the last time he had seen him, his hair still slightly damp from a shower.

"Doesn't stop me being late."

Without the energy to defend himself, Ron instead grimaced at the table and hoped Harry would understand that right now he couldn't give two shits about his plans to do… whatever… with his sister.

"How bad was it this time?" Harry asked, his voice a touch softer than before.

"Didn't you hear?"

"No," he replied, leaning on the counter that Hermione's mug sat on so it was blocked from Ron's view. He wished he could still see it. "I cast _muffliato_ on you both at about the second 'I didn't do anything.'"

"Oh," mumbled Ron. "Thanks."

On top of the strange mix of resentment and misery he was already feeling, Ron now had guilt to contend with as well. Throughout all of this, Harry had been maintaining his traditional middle ground and not talking about anything that he knew was happening between his friends. On their part, Ron and Hermione had tried to keep their issues away from him, but they had still had their fair share of incredibly uncomfortable meal times.

For some reason, keeping their disputes out of their friendship was harder than it was when they were fifteen.

Ron watched as Harry grabbed a cold sausage roll out of the cupboard, sniffed it, shrugged his shoulders and then dropped it onto the small plate in front of him. He sat himself down opposite Ron, tapped it with his wand to heat it and started cutting it up roughly.

It was one of those moments in his life where Ron empathised with food and he wished Harry would be gentler.

"She says she's moving out."

The words had fallen from his lips without his permission. Eyes still on the half eaten sausage roll, Ron wished he could recall them because they seemed to bouncing around the kitchen, amplified by Harry's silence. If Ron strained his ears he could still hear Hermione's original announcement underneath them.

"What?"

"Says she can't live like this," Ron deadpanned. "She's moving back in with her parents."

"For good?" questioned Harry, a bit of sausage roll halfway to his mouth.

Ron shrugged.

"Shit."

"I know."

They lapsed into silence and Ron watched the ghosts of the last hour move around the kitchen. Hermione trying to defend her actions, a look of pure regret on her face… Him trying and failing to keep his temper in check while she attempted to shorten the chain she had attached to his balls…

Her shoulders slumping in defeat…

Him still going for the jugular…

"What are you going to do?"

The ghosts vanished into smoke and lethargy set in. If he thought he could make it upstairs to bed, Ron would've walked away then and ignored Harry's question.

"Dunno."

Ron's fingers found a splinter of wood hanging off the table and started to pick at it while he listened to Harry fidget with his cutlery.

"You've got to act fast, Ron."

Ron looked up at Harry's words to see him looking deadly serious. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he coughed, looking uncomfortable, "just accept that Bale is her friend and-"

"Who said anything about him?" Ron tensed up and felt as though the walls were closing further in on him.

Harry sighed and Ron had known his friends long enough to know that he was steeling himself for something he thought was going to be unpleasant. "I'm not stupid, mate," Harry said quietly.

"And I am?" Ron fired back.

Ron glared at him. Surely this wasn't happening, not Harry as well…

"I didn't say that."

"So why are you taking her side?" Ron half-shouted.

"I'm not!" protested Harry, leaning back in his chair. "I'm just-"

"Well, just don't."

Arms folded, Ron glared at the cupboard behind Harry's head. Wasn't he meant to be going to see Ginny or something?

"Oi," Harry snapped, letting his fork drop to his plate with a clatter. "Don't take your mistakes out on me."

"My mistakes?" choked Ron in disbelief. "_My _mistakes?"

"Yes. You're the one who's jealous."

The annoyance burning in Harry's eyes was blatant. It was so rare that the two of them disagreed on anything that when they did, Ron felt incredibly uneasy. Him and Harry being friends was a fact of life as far as he was concerned. Hearing Harry tell him the argument was his fault was like a spark to the lighter fluid still pumping in his veins from earlier.

"But Bale-"

"Hasn't done anything!" exclaimed Harry over the top of Ron.

Ron pushed his chair back violently and walked away from the table before pausing a good few metres away. Physical distance between him and this conversation was a good idea.

Ron spun around and shouted, "He always takes the piss out of me!"

At this Harry actually had the bollocks to laugh at him. "He does that to everyone."

"Really?" sneered Ron. "Like who?"

"First time he met me," Harry said as he calmly flicked his wand, sending his dirty plate to the sink, "he said he didn't know whether to run away or ask for my autograph. He's just got a similar sense of humour to George," he finished with a shrug.

Ron gawped at him. George was his brother and was therefore allowed to take the Mick, plus he had the advantage of actually being funny. Bale, on the other hand, was clearly just point scoring and had the comic timing of Umbridge.

"It's completely different!"

"Hardly," shrugged Harry again as he got up from the table and Ron grew increasingly annoyed that Harry had started this whole thing and now didn't really seem interested in it. He couldn't just become Bale's biggest fan and then back away.

"He's stuck-up!"

"Maybe a bit but-"

"Do you honestly trust him?"

Finally, Harry met Ron's eyes.

"Yes," he insisted, "he is a nice bloke! It's all in your head."

Ron stared at Harry and tried for a fragment of a second to pretend that Harry was right. He pressed his lips together in the hope that he could keep his opinion in his mouth, but to no avail.

"I know it isn't!"

"For God's-" Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a low breath. "Is your pride really worth throwing Hermione away?"

The two friends glowered at each other, green eyes blazing, blue eyes rounded in shock before quickly scrunching up into slits.

"Since when do you get involved?" Ron asked harshly.

"Since you," Harry shot back, "started acting like a complete bastard to your girlfriend!"

If Ron was stunned when Harry had first started shoving his nose into his and Hermione's relationship it was nothing compared to the numb feeling of shock that was on his face now. Never, not even at Hogwarts, had Harry ever got so involved in an argument between him and Hermione; that was just how it was. They wouldn't speak for a couple of days and Harry would try and make forced conversation between them. Why was Harry trying to change that now?

The silence stretched on for several seconds before Ron finally found his voice.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Ron already has his answer in the back of his head; Harry was his best mate and if anyone had the right to call him on this, it was him.

"Who the fuck am I?" Harry repeated, eyebrows raised. "The guy who watched her fall apart last time you doubted her!"

Echoes of torrential rain on a canvas roof, regrettable decisions and the cries of a heartbroken girl could almost be heard over the deafening silence that followed Harry's words. Something deep inside of Ron was triggered. How bad must the situation be if Harry was throwing the locket and his desertion in his face?

He knew he had a problem with jealousy. It had taken him a while, but he had realised that seeing Hermione talking to other blokes got to him. When her true feelings were finally out in the open, he had made a real effort to control the impulse to lock her away in a room where no one else could see her. One of the first times they had gone out together, someone had approached Hermione and, though he was fuming inside, Ron had done nothing more than take her hand and watch as Hermione politely told the man that she wasn't interested, that she had a boyfriend and that she was very happy, thank you very much.

She had been shocked that he hadn't tried to start a fight with the stranger and he had explained that she could look after herself and that he trusted her. Really, grinding his teeth down to the gum had been worth it to see the look of pride and happiness on her face.

Bale was different though. He wasn't just some random bloke at the bar. Bale was everything he wasn't. He had money, good looks, easy charm… Not to mention he was smart and had a fascination with magical bloody creatures. What was worse was that Hermione seemed blind to his game, making her vulnerable to it.

It was the locket and the tent all over again. A rival he couldn't possibly contend with and Hermione insisting that everything would be fine if they stuck it out.

He had been wrong then…

Why not now?

Even though it was all he had spent the past hour thinking about, it was then that the full force of Hermione leaving hit him. She never walked away from their arguments and the challenge of it all. Maybe she didn't see a challenge anymore? Maybe she saw a brick wall.

"She hates me," Ron mumbled through numb lips. He staggered back to his chair that was now miles away from the table and fell weakly into it, his eyes wide and unseeing.

If by the slimmest chance that Bale was just a bit of prick and not out to steal his girlfriend...

"She doesn't hate you," he heard Harry sigh, "but she will if you don't fix this."

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked, looking up at Harry. To him the situation seemed hopeless. Hermione had walked out and the only thing convincing him that he had made a mistake was Harry.

To Ron's dismay, Harry's relief that Ron had stopped shouting had quickly turned into a blank look. Of course, Harry wasn't used to this side of things. He'd never really cared enough to make it work with Cho. After he and Ginny had sorted things out after the war, Ron couldn't remember them having one argument.

_Stupid Harry, _grumbled Ron internally. _Stupid Harry and his stupid perfect relationship with my stupid sister…_

"Go after her?" suggested Harry. "Apologise?"

Ron almost laughed. They really were useless when it came to stuff like this. Ron tried to picture going to find Hermione but all scenarios ended with him being decapitated.

"Like she'll listen…" he mumbled under his breath.

"Don't mope," Harry cut in. He checked his watch and headed to the kitchen door. "Fix it," he said sharply before leaving for his date with Ginny.

_Fix it._

It sounded so simple.

He doubted he could though. Not right now anyway; Hermione would still be fuming.

Harry's words had stung. Never had he intervened in an argument before. Was Ron really that caught up in his own thoughts that he couldn't see himself clearly anymore?

With a sigh, Ron stood up. If he was honest with himself he knew Hermione wouldn't cheat on him, with Bale or anyone else. Even if she did, she was a terrible liar with the most all-consuming conscience Ron had ever known. He'd know straight away. That's if she didn't confess automatically.

It wasn't beyond his reach. If he wanted to, he could bring back everything he and Hermione used to have. Things couldn't be sorted out right away, but he could at least bring her back. Involving her parents meant letting the outside world know they had problems. Letting her pack was acknowledging that one day she could leave for good. If he just stayed calm, promised to let her have her say, then maybe they could clear the air.

It seemed like the mature thing to do. For once Ron didn't feel like a child trapped inside of an adult's life; he felt like he could solve the problem in front of him. Perhaps he was growing up after all.

With a new sense of determination, a half-formed plan and his dreams in the balance, Ron stepped around the table and put the mug back in the cupboard before marching upstairs to hall and stepping out onto the front step. With a deep breath, Ron twisted on the spot and disappeared.

When the horrible compressing sensation had gone, Ron quickly checked he was still all there and looked around to see if he was in the place he wanted to be: the Apparition point in the entrance of the Ministry. Ron couldn't be sure where Hermione was, but it seemed like a good a starting point as any because he doubted she would go to her parents' while she was still angry.

Just in case she was there, Ron checked himself out in the reflective wall to his right. Even in the slightly distorted image he could see that he wasn't looking his best. He hadn't had a shower since work so he still smelt like gunpowder (he always came away from that shop smelling like gunpowder, even when he hadn't been near the stuff), his hair hadn't been brushed since this morning and he probably should've shaved.

It didn't matter, really; he and Hermione were way past caring what the other one looked like, but he still wanted to make a good first impression. On a whim, Ron pulled out his wand and conjured some flowers. It wasn't one of the spells he did most often so they came out looking a bit limp, but it didn't matter. Hermione was hardly the kind of girl to go weak at the knees over a bouquet, but she might appreciate the gesture. Ron then pulled out a self-inking quill from his pocket and scribbled a quick message on the tag while leaning against wall, making the script look spiky and child-like.

Ron looked back at himself and sighed. It all looked very thrown together, him with a crappy bouquet and a rumpled looked, but at least he didn't look like he was trying too hard. If he was honest with himself, Ron was still feeling the lingering bitterness from their earlier argument and he needed to calm down.

He'd never done this bridge building thing before. Normally he'd let the emotion win, give in to self-pity and stubbornness. This time he was breaking the chain. It felt like trying to defuse a Whizz-Bang after it had blown.

"Can we talk about this with no shouting please?" Ron whispered to his blurry reflection. "Can we just talk about this with no shouting? I really don't want to fight anymore, can we just talk? I just want to talk."

He drew in a few more calming breaths; he couldn't lose it.

"Fucking Harry…" he grumbled. "Could be at home, happily breaking things, but no-" He adopted a bad impersonation of Harry's Home County accent. "_Bale's a great guy and you're a prick_…"

He trusted Harry. That was the only reason he was here: blind trust. No one left to blame. No more excuses. Just one shot at getting Hermione back. If he fucked this up it could be weeks before he got another chance.

Could he last weeks without her?

Probably. He'd done so before. Misery and resentment actually made quite good company.

Did he want to go weeks without her?

No. Never. Even when he was annoyed with her, he still liked to know she was around.

With his mind firmly on the goal of sorting this thing out once and for all, Ron started walking towards the lifts.

As he walked through the large atrium, Ron turned to look at the structure that dominated the middle - a huge, bronze phoenix, rising from the flames. Though he couldn't see them from where he was, Ron knew that the names of everyone who had died in both of the wars, be they magic, Muggle or creature, were inscribed along the bottom. No name stood out or was any bigger than the others. The likes of Albus Dumbledore and Rufus Scrimgeour sat unobtrusively next to the Dobbys and John Smiths of the world. They were all equal in death.

Ron never dreamed he would survive the war. He always thought that he would meet his end, laying down his life for Harry or Hermione. When the sun had risen on that late spring day last year, he had vowed to make the most of the extra time he had been given, unlike so many others.

Instead he had let things between him and Hermione disintegrate.

With a new sense of purpose, Ron quickened his pace.

He almost jogged to the nearest lift, hit the button for the fourth level and waited impatiently for the golden grilles to open. When they finally did, Ron darted inside. He ran his fingers through his thick hair in an attempt to straighten it out, and felt the nerves set in. As the lift juddered upwards, he noticed the irony of his stomach going in the opposite direction.

_Can't get angry._

_Just listen to her and she'll listen to you._

_Even _compromise_ if you have to._

_Only a little bit though._

_Caving in completely will just make you look like a twat._

_Do not fuck this up._

_Ding! _

"Level Four, Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit divisions, Goblin Liaison Office and Pest Advisory Bureau."*

Show time.

Ron stepped out of the lift and started the familiar trek to Hermione's office, half-hoping, half-dreading her actually being there. He made his way down the Spirit Division corridor, the only section of the floor that had office space available after the war. He remembered joking about it, saying something about how Hermione was becoming more transparent. Or was it about her office being dead small? It didn't matter now, but it had made her smile then.

Lost in his memory, Ron didn't realise that he'd walked past the tiny office. He double backed a few steps, where he could make out two people sitting with their backs to him, through the slightly frosted glass on the door. One of them was definitely Hermione but the other…

He could just about hear a male voice.

Bale.

Ron closed his eyes. What was Bale even doing here at this time? He'd ask for a private word with Hermione. He didn't even have to look at Bale. It was a perfectly reasonable request. Not breaking Bale's nose would be a sign of maturity, right? That'd earn him points.

When he opened his eyes again, Ron saw that they had moved slightly.

In fact, they were now kissing.

Bile rose up in his throat as Ron found he had already turned away and his feet were slowly taking him back towards the lift.

It was like his nightmares had left his subconscious and were manifesting themselves in reality. Barely aware of where he was or what he was feeling, Ron kept moving; it was imperative that he put as much distance between himself and that office as possible. His footsteps were reverberating off the walls, a steady tattoo against his ear drums that mated with the increasingly fast thud of his heart.

His heart that was still working somehow. His heart that at times seemed only to beat because of a girl he had met on a train when he was eleven. His heart that he had given to the same girl, along with everything else he had to offer, only for her to shatter it like a glass figurine…

Realisation hit him like a freight train.

With an inhuman growl, Ron turned suddenly and kicked the wall, before smashing his pathetic bouquet against it a few times. Petals of yellow, purple and white rained down on him as Ron turned and punched the opposite wall until he felt the wave of fury crashing into hurt.

He had to get away. He'd deal with this when he had accepted it was real. Neither of them could see him like this.

Swallowing hard, gasping for air and restraint, blinking back the burning in his eyes, Ron stormed his way to the lift, kicking the sorry remains of the flower stems down the corridor, trying to hold back reality. When he was alone, he would dissect this, formulate a plan of action. Now, he just needed to get the fuck out.

He punched the button to call the lift and kept on punching it long after it had arrived, trying to block out the voice in his head that could be heard over the storm of rage, the whirlpool of betrayal, the pain and the shock. The one that threatened to consume him and pull him under. The one that only seemed capable of repeating the same three words.

_I've lost her._

_I've lost her._

_I've lost her._

* * *

_A/N 2: Yep. O/Cs and now this. I just ask for a little faith._

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*Line from Order of the Phoenix, Chapter Seven


	5. Driving Me Crazy

_A/N: Thank you to the wonderful people who have reviewed/put this on story alert/adding it to favourites for filling my inbox with joy._

_I also owe you an apology. I was convinced after last chapter that a lot of people would abandon this fic because nobody likes Cheating!Hermione. Well, except for the guy (or girl) she's cheating with. Anyway, instead of running to the hills, all the reviewers said they'd be sticking around for the next chapter at least. I totally underestimated you guys and I'm sorry._

_Instead of the worst reviews I've ever known, I actually received my favourite bunch of reviews thus far. They were hilarious, angry and above all unbelievably helpful and insightful. Everything was going on: people hating Bale, thinking Hermione was a victim, thinking Hermione was a bitch, loving that Ron stayed relatively strong, annoyed that Ron was weak, wanting me arrested, threatening to punch Bale, cheering about Harry's intervention, being angry with Harry for being a terrible friend… The only thing you all seemed to agree on was that you all wanted an update so erm… TA-DA!_

* * *

_Disclaimer: Blink 182 owns After Midnight and J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter but apparently they're both on eBay._

* * *

Driving Me Crazy

7:30pm. 15th November, 1999

_I kinda like the little rush you get_

_When you're standing close to death_

_Like when you're driving me crazy_

As Hermione pressed the button to command the lift to take her to her floor, she exhaled for what felt like the first time since she had stormed out of Grimmauld Place. Some of the tension that had been building up inside of her disappeared. Unfortunately, this only made more room for everything else she was currently feeling.

Had she really said that she was moving out? It didn't seem like she had. Hermione closed her eyes and desperately tried to fight the residual anger, but soon lost as all the reasons for her snap decision came back to her. Really, they needed a break or least she did, desperately. She needed space and time to think. There was no doubt in her mind that she still loved Ron, but their relationship as it currently was, was suffocating her.

She arrived at her level and made her way, past the last of the cleaners, towards her office. With every step she took, her head seemed to clear and the ramifications of her actions started to appear. Hermione found a tightness in her chest that she hadn't even realised was there, loosen and she felt free. While she wouldn't class herself as single, far from it in fact, knowing that for a short while she wouldn't have to be _with_ Ron felt liberating.

Immediately after having this thought, guilt set in. If she was honest with herself, Hermione missed him already. Not the Him that she had left in the kitchen, but the one from a few months ago and all the years before that. Deep down, Hermione knew they had both changed and become horrible versions of their former selves, but, at the same time, she knew they could change back.

Couldn't they?

Too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice where she was going, Hermione walked headlong into someone coming in the opposite direction, who was busy reading a scroll of parchment.

"Oh, I am so sor- Gwen!"

"Hermione!" she exclaimed, rubbing her arm. "Twelve hours early for work, I see. Impressive. Even by your standards," she added with a wry smile.

Under Gwen's slightly amused grin, Hermione's cheeks began to heat up. "Well," she began, talking faster than normal, "I know you said I had until next Thursday to finish that report on the unicorn hunting, but I just-"

"Go home, Hermione," interrupted Gwen.

"But-"

Gwen gripped her shoulder with her free hand and shook it gently. "Go. Home."

Hermione tried to think of a valid reason for her to come into work so late but she couldn't. The thought of having to go back to reality right now was daunting. Despite her best efforts to hold it in, she felt the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes and she bit her bottom lip in an attempt to stop them.

Gwen eyed her sympathetically. "Are you all right, Hermione?" she asked kindly.

Hermione nodded. "I'm fine."

"You can talk to me, you know," Gwen told her with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "Even if it's about someone at work. I come with a confidentiality clause."

Smiling slightly, Hermione replied, "I've told you. I've dealt with worse than Drella before and-"

"I wasn't talking about Drella," Gwen cut in quietly.

Since the moment Hermione had met Gwen, she had liked her. Despite appearing to have a laid-back attitude to life, she worked extremely hard and was great at her job. Hermione's favourite thing about her though was how incredibly easy she was to be around. The most stressful day imaginable could be made carefree by Gwen's quick wit and eternal optimism.

So now, when Hermione felt as though her head was about to melt and she was angry enough to want to destroy a small city as well as being upset to the point of wanting to bawl her eyes out for days, she found she wanted to divulge what had happened tonight to someone who didn't know Ron and wouldn't be put in an awkward position or be forced to pick sides. However, Hermione quickly decided against this. It was her and Ron's problem and right now she just wanted an hour or so to forget it existed.

"I'm fine, Gwen," Hermione insisted with a fair attempt at a casualness. "Really."

After a few moments of looking like she was deciding whether to push Hermione for the truth, Gwen sighed. "Okay, but don't stay too long. If I come in tomorrow and you're asleep on your desk then I mean it, I will sack you."

"It wouldn't be work if you didn't threaten to sack me at least once a day," Hermione said, trying to smile and succeeding to some extent.

Gwen chuckled and took a few steps towards the lifts. Hermione had only made it a few metres more before Gwen called her. She turned to see her smiling at her. "Promise to remember me and the other little people when you're running this place?"

Temporarily distracted from everything going on her life, Hermione's eyes widened and she started stammering a sentence that she hadn't yet formed in her head yet.

"Don't try and tell me it'll never happen," joked Gwen, wagging her finger in Hermione's direction. "If you're not above me in three years then I'll resign and give you my job."

Still utterly speechless, Hermione just smiled shyly. She was still new to the Ministry and felt she had a lot to learn. The praise and faith of her manager, especially one she respected like Gwen, meant the world.

"Thank you," she said, just as Gwen had started to turn away.

"Anytime, pet," Gwen smiled over her shoulder before pressing the button to call back the lift.

Eventually, Hermione reached the cramped office she shared with Patrick and Drella and squeezed her way through the gap between the other two desks, until she reached her own on the opposite side of the room. She sat down and began attempting to hide away in a mountain of paperwork.

Over the years, Hermione had learnt that most people didn't find work to be the escape that she did. She had lost count of the amount of times at school that she had gone to the library to lose herself in research when she needed to relax. Ron and Harry always thought they were doing her a service by dragging her away to sit outside when they thought she should have a day off, but to her there was nothing better than being surrounded by learning and cocooned in the smell of old books.

About halfway through her fourth year she had discovered a concealed room in the Ancient Runes section. A small place with a large desk and a chair that must have been built to curl up in with a book. When she was particularly upset or really didn't want to be found, Hermione would take her homework in there, knowing that the boys had no hope of finding her, unless they resorted to using the Marauder's Map.

Now, without the vast school library, the best place Hermione had to run to was here. Here, she didn't need to think about Ron or their argument; she could just do what she did best.

After twenty minutes, however, Hermione began to think that nothing, not even the vile things Death Eaters had allowed to be done to unicorns, could distract her from the enormity of her decision. Even though she only really planned to move out for a couple of days, just enough for her and Ron to calm down, she would have to return to Grimmauld Place to collect some clothes and toiletries and that could mean facing Ron or even Harry. Would Harry be upset with her? Would he help her pack? It would be rude of her not to talk to him at all before she left.

Her parents were a whole other story. While her mother adored Ron, her father didn't seem to think their relationship would last. Telling him that she was moving out not long after her final year at Hogwarts had led to some heated rows and, with both of them being incredibly stubborn, it had been a few weeks after she moved to London that she had spoken to him again. The idea of turning up at her old house with her trunk and asking if she could stay for a couple of days felt like telling her father that he was right, that her and Ron were moving too fast and that it was only because this was her first serious relationship that she thought it was really love.

For a split second she considered lying to them and saying that the boys were going away for the weekend to watch a Quidditch match or something and that she didn't want to stay in the house on her own, but she squashed this immediately. After Australia, she had vowed never to lie to her parents again. She would just have to suck in her pride and watch as her mother's heart broke and her father waged an internal battle with himself over whether or not he should say "I told you so."

With a groan, Hermione threw down her quill, leant back in her chair and covered her face with her hands. Even if she went back to London on Monday morning to find Ron waiting for her with a pile of new books for her, a romantic dinner and an apology so sincere that even Shakespeare would commend his use of the English language, those few days spent back in Oxfordshire would be held over her head for years. Were things really that bad between them?

She needed space. She needed to calm down and hoped that Ron would too. Nothing could possibly be resolved with them both in a state of high irritation. As she picked up her quill again and began taking notes from the text in front of her, Hermione realised that the freedom she had loved half an hour ago felt incredibly lonely. Really, she hated the idea of being apart from Ron because she knew their relationship was stronger than that. There hadn't been an argument to date that they hadn't recovered from and it wasn't like they had been few and far between either.

They could get through this as well, couldn't they?

Before Hermione could even begin contemplating the answer to her own question, the office door opened and Patrick walked in, wearing a set of smart, deep purple robes. Both of them were startled by the other's presence, but Patrick was the first to recover.

"Glad I'm not the only one coming in off the clock," he joked.

"I just wanted to get started on some things so I'm ahead for next week," Hermione replied, gesturing to the parchment littering her desk.

"Oh right," said Patrick as he began to move towards his own desk, opposite Hermione's. "I had a brainwave about Paragraph Six," he added excitedly.

Despite wanting very much to be alone right now, Hermione's interest piqued at the mention of their joint project. "Really?"

"I remembered a case from a Defence Against the Dark Arts essay I did… must have been in my third year," Patrick enthused as sat down and straightened his robes. "It was about a Canadian werewolf named Sawyer, who managed to work in a broom maker's workshop for six months without anyone knowing of his condition. The moment his employer found out, he was sacked on the spot for no other reason than for being a werewolf."

Hermione nodded. Although it disgusted her, she had learnt over the past few months that being sacked was probably the best the man could have hoped for.

"Sawyer bravely appealed the decision and took the company to court for unlawful dismissal and discrimination, using the defence that, in the six months before his contract was terminated, his condition never once affected his work apart from the odd sick day."

"What happened?"

"Well, the Canadian Ministry buildings are in-"

"Ottawa," Hermione interjected. "Underneath a Muggle area, like our own Ministry is, only not as deep."

"Exactly right," smiled Patrick. "During the court proceedings, Sawyer smelt a gas leak from the Muggle school above them and everyone was evacuated. It turned out if they had stayed then the poor ventilation would have resulted in everyone suffering from CO2 poisoning. Most of the Ministry staff were pureblood - they would never have noticed the smell for what it was in time. Sawyer potentially saved sixty-three lives."

"So he won the case?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Patrick's smile slowly slid off of his face. "No," he said with a grimace. "Although it does prove that a werewolf could hold down a job and perform to the standard of regular employees without there being any danger. We could use that."

"Why couldn't we just use Professor Lupin for that?" asked Hermione. "After all, he didn't just hold down a job, he excelled in it. He was responsible for the highest OWL and NEWT scores in his subject for six years."

"I know," Patrick said as he unscrewed his ink pot, "but didn't he transform, sans Wolfsbane, on school property in front of some students?"

Hermione felt her face heat up. "Apparently."

"That counts against him."

"Oh."

"It's a shame that Hogwarts won't release the names of those student witnesses," Patrick said thoughtfully.

This time, Hermione ducked her head to hide her pink cheeks.

"They probably have their reasons," she replied vaguely as the memories of the snap of a leg breaking, Harry's shouts of betrayal and grief and Ron motionless on the floor flooded her mind, followed by a hundred Dementors, slowly advancing towards her and the echo of something heavy sliding along a stone floor and Penelope Clearwater's short-lived gasp of terror.

Patrick looked over the small gap between their desks, but seemed to realise that she wasn't up for any kind of conversation and opened a large book in front of him and started reading. As the minutes ticked on, Hermione became aware that it was difficult to not think about her argument with Ron when the subject that had dominated it was sitting across from her. The words, that would ordinarily have her captivated, suddenly were a blur in front of her eyes as she remembered how angry Ron was.

Was he going to be able to calm down in only a couple of days? Moving in with her parents felt like a backwards step as it was, but if Ron stayed angry and unreasonable would she have to stay longer? Even if he did calm down, how long would it be before he started mistrusting her again?

It was going to take more than a few days apart to solve their problems, especially if Ron pretended that they didn't have any. Patrick was nothing more than a trigger for underlying problems they had already, or at least the problems that Ron had with her. What was she supposed to do? Stop seeing Patrick because Ron didn't like him? Even if she didn't work with him, Hermione enjoyed Patrick's company and it wasn't like there was any history between them. If she started letting Ron dictate who she did and didn't see then where would it stop? Reading her letters? Not letting her out of the house without him?

No. It was better if they started as they meant to go on. There was no way that Hermione was going to give up her independence for any man, even Ron, not matter how much she loved him.

If this was how they meant to go on though, what did that say about the future of their relationship? Ron didn't trust her, despite her not giving him any reason not to. If he knew that less than an hour after their argument that she was in the same room as Patrick, even though it was unintentional, he would hit the roof.

A sense of hopelessness set in and Hermione found that the words were becoming blurrier as tears crept unbidden into her eye line. Knowing that she wasn't going to be able to stop them from hitting her full force, Hermione got up with a sniff and started to make her way out of the room. Patrick's head shot up at her sudden movement.

"Hermione?"

"It's nothing," croaked Hermione, still trying to manoeuvre her way out from behind her desk. "I just- I just need some air."

When she reached the other side of her desk, Hermione found Patrick waiting for her there with a look of concern on his face.

"Hey," Patrick said softly. He stopped her hasty retreat by catching her on the shoulders and holding her in place. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she sniffed. If talking to Gwen about her relationship problems felt wrong then talking to Patrick would have been akin to betrayal. She attempted to leave again, but Patrick held her steadfast.

"Is it- is it Ron?" he asked hesitantly.

Losing the fight with her composure, Hermione screwed up her face and let the tears fall. The misery she had tried to convince herself didn't exist, overwhelmed her. For the first time since the whole Lavender fiasco, she didn't see the way back to her and Ron being happy.

As she covered her face, Patrick pushed her back slightly so that she was sitting on his desk and then sat next to her. At first she tried to stand up, but Patrick put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back. Without the energy to fight it anymore, Hermione dissolved into floods of tears and buried her head into Patrick's shoulder.

"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked sympathetically when she had eventually calmed down a bit.

"No," said Hermione through her constricted throat. "We just had a row."

"So that's why you're here," he mused. "How bad was it?"

"I might-" Hermione hiccuped. "I might be moving back in with my parents. Just until the end of the week."

Even as she said it, she knew she was just trying to convince herself that there was no chance of it being permanent.

"I'm sorry," said Patrick, offering her a monogrammed handkerchief.

"Why?" she chuckled wetly, as she took it from him. "It's not your fault."

They sat in silence while Hermione dabbed her eyes and pulled herself together. Surprisingly, she found that releasing all of that pent up emotion allowed her to see things more clearly. Breaking up with Ron was definitely not something she wanted in her immediate future. No matter how bad the arguments got or how long she had to stay with her parents, she would continue to fight for them because she knew that in the end it would be worth it.

"Do you want me to tell you what I think?"

Hermione jumped slightly as she had forgotten Patrick was there, despite him still having a comforting arm around her. She looked up to see him with pity written all over his face and thought about his offer. Despite all of the rubbish that Ron said, Hermione trusted him to give an unbiased opinion on the situation that might be able to help her so she nodded.

"Not some sugar-coated lie, but what I really think?" he reiterated, cocking his left eyebrow.

"Of course."

Patrick stared at her seriously again and wetted his lips.

"You've known Ron… how long?"

"Eight years," she replied.

"Have you ever thought," he began hesitantly, "that he is a safe option for you? Something familiar? Like you're only together out of habit?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's never been like that."

"Look," sighed Patrick, "maybe being with Ron made sense a couple years ago. Maybe you were a great couple, but you've changed or he has changed. The world around you has certainly changed."

Parts of what he was saying were without a doubt true. The world was a completely different place to the one in which she received her Hogwarts letter and both of them were different to how they had been that day on the train, but change was only a third of the picture. Patrick was forgetting the things that had stayed the same and those that had come from nowhere.

"He's my best friend," Hermione shrugged, Patrick's arm bobbing up and down with the movement. "I've known him nearly half of my life. We've changed a lot since we first met and we have always got through it."

"True," relented Patrick, "but you're not in school anymore. You don't need a boy to help you take on Death Eaters and the all the other stuff. You need a man who will take care of and respect you. A man you can build a future with."

A slight frown creased Hermione's forehead while she undoubtedly thought a man that was kind and respectful was preferable, she definitely didn't _need _someone to look after her.

"Can you see Ron doing these things?" asked Patrick, the ghost of a smile playing about his mouth.

"Yes, of course," she responded automatically.

"Can you?" Patrick repeated in a tone Hermione found a touch patronising. "Or is that the rose-tinted glasses?"

Blinking, Hermione looked to her knees and considered his words. For nearly all of her teens, Hermione had been having black and white daydreams of a life that she could live with her best friend by her side, supporting her and completing her in every way - black and white dreams that he had coloured in last Christmas.

And what a picture it had been. A mirror image of the sketch she had had in her head. If anything, she had provided the outline to the mess of colour that had been inside of Ron's. Together, they fitted perfectly to make something beautiful.

"Thanks for being honest," Hermione said to her knees, still reeling from her realisation of what she had to gain from making her relationship work, "but I really think we can get through this. We've been through worse. Ron…" Hermione sighed and looked up to see Patrick staring at her, his face unreadable. "He has these periods when he seems foul and impossible sometimes, but they're so rare…"

"Can…" Patrick coughed and shuffled slightly on top of the desk. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Again?" Hermione sighed with a wry smile that she was surprised to see Patrick didn't return. Instead he was looking at her with a strange intensity.

"I think you're lying to yourself," he said bluntly.

Hermione blinked. She had not been expecting that. The balloon that had been inflating inside of her started to slowly shrink.

"Look at yourself, Hermione!" Patrick exclaimed with a smile. "It's nearly eight on a Tuesday evening. You've no urgent work that needs doing and you're here, escaping him."

Patrick paused and shook his head. "Hermione, this isn't the first time you've said these things about him. This isn't the first time you've cried over him either and I doubt it will be the last."

Apprehension slowly filled the room as Hermione felt herself tense up. Honesty was one thing, but this was a step too far. Patrick didn't seem to notice the change in her and continued with an enthusiasm in his voice that unnerved her.

"You're brilliant, 'Mione!" he said, giving her a small squeeze.

_'Mione? _

"You're smart, charming, attractive, not to mention famous!" he added with a roll of his eyes. "Guys all around the Ministry have noticed. I overheard some Obliviators lamenting the fact you are with an Auror just yesterday."

By this point Hermione was too unnerved to reply. Not because half of the Ministry was apparently lusting after her, but because there was something about Patrick at this moment that she had never seen before. It was in the way his arm felt like a pincer-tight vice, the way his words seemed rehearsed and practised… the way his light blue eyes didn't have any light behind them.

He was sitting very close now.

"You're better than this. You're better than him," he whispered, his face getting closer to hers. "He doesn't deserve you…"

Hermione felt as though the world had slipped out of orbit as Patrick's eyes slipped shut and he pressed his soft lips against hers. The whole thing was so sudden and confusing that she had no idea which was the prevailing emotion. All she knew was that whatever was happening, shouldn't have been and, almost immediately, she pulled back an inch.

"Have you quite finished?" she hissed at Patrick through her teeth.

As she spoke, it became clear which emotion she was feeling the strongest: pure, all-consuming fury.

As if there was a force field around her, Patrick shot back and retracted his arm. Hermione saw a hint of fear in his eyes as he met hers. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I didn't mean to-"

"Yes, you did," Hermione cut in forcefully, slowly getting off the table and moving to stand in front of him.

For a split second, Patrick seemed to be fighting an internal battle before he too stood up. "Okay, I did," he admitted shamelessly. "But only because you are far too good for that idiot!" he spat out, his voice growing louder with every syllable.

"He isn't an idiot," growled Hermione.

"Oh, come on," laughed Patrick, running a hand lightly over his hair. "I'm surprised he doesn't drag his knuckles along the floor."

Almost shaking with rage, Hermione advanced slowly towards Patrick and his arrogant smirk that twisted his face in such a way that left him looking ugly and spoilt. Wisely, he backed away from her, heading towards Hermione's desk.

"You don't know the first thing about him," whispered Hermione dangerously. "He is the _best thing_ that ever happened to me." They both stopped when the back of Patrick's legs hit the desk behind him. "_I_ am lucky to have _him_," Hermione said slowly, "not the other way around."

"Oh, come off it…" laughed Patrick.

"No," Hermione said, silencing him. "I trusted you. I thought we were friends, but Ron… Ron was right all along."

Without a second glance back at the man almost cowering in front of her, Hermione turned on her heel and began marching towards the exit. Before she had taken her second step however, Patrick had leapt in front of her.

"Hermione, listen," he insisted desperately, "you can't go back to him."

Unfazed, Hermione snarled, "Get out of my way."

For a moment, Patrick froze before he spoke again. "Tell me you're not attracted to me and I will."

Unable to believe the audacity of this man, Hermione snorted. "I'm not attracted to you," she said coldly. "Now move."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe this."

Quick as a flash, Patrick had a small stick of wood pressed against the underside of his chin. Hermione thought that pulling her wand may be enough to break through the deluded dreamland that Patrick seemed to inhabit, but instead he laughed and gently pushed against her wand so it wasn't pointing at his head.

Unfortunately for him, Hermione had other ideas and held it steady, wiping the condescending smile of his face. "Get out of my way."

"No."

"You've got one chance left. _Move_."

"I know you," said Patrick softly. "You wouldn't do it. I know you feel this too."

In quick succession, Patrick leaned in again and Hermione sent a wordless jinx straight into his face. As Patrick lay yelling on the floor, boils erupting painfully onto his skin, Hermione did nothing more than step over him, pocketing her wand as she did so, before throwing the door open, stepping over the threshold and slamming it closed behind her.

Storming down the corridor, Hermione tried to work out what just happened. Today had gone from bad to worse. Every man in her life seemed to have decided to push her to the edge. She half expected to go home to find Harry whipping Kreacher.

_Every man in her life…_

Ron.

He'd been right. The whole time.

Shame, regret, mortification… All three were at war inside of her. Every argument and annoyed look had been because she had been too pig-headed to believe for even one minute that she had been wrong. She had put it all down to Ron's history of jealousy and got on with her life, while he had slowly torn himself apart watching another man take a liking to his girlfriend while trying to pretend he didn't mind her spending most of her day with him.

She had to tell him everything that had just happened, including the attempted kiss. Hermione planned to go to Grimmauld Place right now to explain and apologise until she was blue in face. Ron would be furious, of course. If Hermione had been a gambler, she would put good money on there being a row, but at least now they would be on the same page.

To be honest, right now Hermione felt like she would deserve every "I told you so" and anything else she received.

Feeling incredibly stupid, Hermione started taking deep breaths to prevent the tears that she could feel burning behind her eyes. On the second inhale, she got a whiff of a strange smell.

_Gunpowder?_

Hermione only knew of three people in the world who left the scent of explosives behind them. One was dead, his twin had no reason to be in the Ministry and the other… The other had every reason to have been in this corridor recently.

For the first time since she had stepped into the corridor, Hermione took in her surroundings. As well as the usual potted plants and magical windows, she saw the petals and stems of destroyed flowers, scattered over the polished wooden floor.

Her heart in her throat, Hermione spotted a crumbled piece of card on the ground and slowly made her way towards it. She bent down to pick it up and felt the blood leave her face as she recognised an even messier version of the scrawl she had been seeing nearly every day for the past eight years.

_Hermione,_

_I'm so sorry. Please come home._

_I love you, _

_Ron_

Hermione's head snapped towards the direction of the lifts, hoping to see Ron standing there waiting for her.

He had come after her with an olive branch only to see her and Patrick…

"No…"

Without a second thought, Hermione shoved the card in her pocket and sprinted to the lifts in the hopes of finding Ron before their relationship resembled the flowers she kicked up as she ran.

* * *

_A/N 2: So yeah, that's what happened in the office. Congratulations to everyone who guessed right!_

_Now, because I'm in a good mood I've decided to start a little competition. If you can think of a disclaimer that involves Blink 182 owning After Midnight and J.K Rowling owning Harry Potter then either message it to me, leave it at the bottom of your review or send it to me via carrier pigeon (or better yet, owl) and I'll use my favourite for the last chapter of this story. I'm doing this because I think some of you could think of something truly hilarious and because I like to encourage a bit of healthy competition. _

_Not because I'm running out of ideas or anything. Promise. _


	6. The Darkest Words You Said

_A/N: Thank to the marvelous people who are reviewing/alerting/favouriting this. A round of applause for you all! *clap clap clap*_

_A big thank you to ozzel1 for pointing out that snow isn't hot and other incredibly useful and logical things that have improved this chapter._

_For those of you wishing to read some fluff because the angst is getting to you then I recommend a fluffy trio-friendship fic called 'Kiss' written by this wonderful new writer called... erm... HalfASlug. Yes, that's right; it's the return of the shameless plug. _

_Ooh look! The lesser-spotted short-ish A/N!_

* * *

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter, the boy I grew up with. Blink 182 own After Midnight and are the boys I stayed immature with._

* * *

The Darkest Words You Said 

8:00pm, 15th November 1999

_I can't keep your voice out of my head_

_All I hear are many the echoes of_

_The darkest words you said_

Ron stared at the Phoenix Memorial trying to work out what the hell he was meant to do. He'd have to confront her, tell her what he'd seen, but right now he needed to get his head together. The only things Ron had settled on so far was that he was going to leave this with his head held high and his dignity intact. At no point would he beg or plead. At no point would he tell her he'd forget the whole thing for another chance. At no point would he let her know just how much this was hurting him.

The problem was Ron didn't know where to go to think the rest of his strategy through. Somehow he had managed to bury the initial rage and was now in a bizarre numb state that he wished to maintain. He couldn't go home or to the Burrow because it reminded him of her and he couldn't think about her because then he would begin to feel and the pain would surely kill him. The trouble was everything reminded him of her, even the atrium. All the times they had arrived at work together, hand in hand. All the times they had passed through here to get to _Ministry Munchies _for a coffee on their lunch breaks. All the times he had leant against the wall, waiting her to finish that last bit of paper work before they could go home.

So instead of going somewhere comforting, as his greatest source of comfort was the thing causing him all of this pain, Ron kept his focus on the bronze monument. The memorial brought back other memories that overtook any new emotion that he was trying to fight so he continued glaring at his brother's name in the hope that where ever Fred was, he couldn't see the mess his little brother had become.

_Sorry, Fred._

In the distance, Ron heard the lift doors open and he knew it was her even before she called him. He turned around and glared at her pale face, glad that she was alone, before turning back to the statue. He wanted to move but couldn't. He wanted to shout and rage, he wanted to cry and scream but he couldn't. Even now, Ron's promise to never walk away from her again held him in his place.

"Ron?"

By the sounds of things she hadn't moved away from the lifts.

"Don't," Ron breathed, closing his eyes. He could hear Hermione panting breaths edge closer to him.

"Ron, what-"

"Don't," he repeated, louder this time for he had heard her footsteps coming up behind him and he needed physical distance between them. She stopped walking and Ron swallowed, trying with all his might to keep it together, to keep his advantage. It was then he realised that she must have seen the flowers so he decided to press forward and catch her off guard. "How long?"

The silence was like a ticking bomb to him.

"What do you mean?" she asked breathlessly.

"How. Long," Ron forced out through his gritted teeth. Now was not the time for her to start acting stupid.

Hermione gulped and her shallow breath quickened. "What did you hear?"

"Hear?" questioned Ron, taking pride in the way her voice sounded panicked now. "I didn't realise that any talking happened."

"Oh God…" Hermione gasped.

"Yeah, that's right," Ron jeered. "You've been caught out."

Even though his eyes were still closed he could still see the names in front of him as though they were etched into the inside of his eyelids. Reciting them kept him calm.

…_Walbrock, Fred Weasley, Stephanie Webster…_

"No, Ron," Hermione's voice broke in to his mantra, the distress ringing through every syllable, "you've got it wrong-"

…_Walbrock…_

"No. I got you wrong."

_...Fred Weasley…_

"Whatever you saw-"

…_Stephanie Webster…_

"I saw you kissing him."

He had said it coolly but the words made his insides churn. There was no way he was going to be able to keep this façade up for much longer.

"He kissed me," Hermione choked out. "I didn't kiss him back."

…_Fred Weasley…_

Ron could almost hear her tears falling.

_...Fred Weasley…_

"Ron?"

_... Fred…_

"You think," Ron growled, the roll call in his head reaching such an intensity it now resembled white noise, "that I'm stupid enough to believe that?"

"It's the truth," she replied simply.

"I know what I saw."

It was like a storm in his head. Ron squeezed his eyelids together as tightly as he could and tried to ignore the whistling noise that it climbed higher and higher.

"So you saw me pull away."

It wasn't a question. The small part of him, the part that wasn't slowly swelling with rage, wanted to believe her. It wanted there to have been a mistake. It wanted Ron to have just arrived at a bad time and seen something that he misconstrued. Hermione sounded so sure of herself…

"You think I hung around to watch?" asked Ron, speaking louder this time so he could hear himself over the howling noise inside of his head.

"There was nothing _to _watch!" insisted Hermione from behind him, sounding frustrated for the first time.

It was her frustration that stopped the noise reaching its elusive crescendo. Through this new, eerie silence, Ron could hear her ragged breaths as if they were in slow motion. All at once, Ron noticed he was shaking and hadn't taken in a breath in a while. This was the calm. He knew the storm would be arriving any moment now. He finally took a breath and the tempest consumed him.

"STOP LYING TO ME!" he roared as he whipped around just in time to see Hermione take an involuntary step back.

"I'm not!" she protested with wide eyes. "You- you were right about Patrick. I'm sorry I didn't see it. I'm so sorry that I didn't listen to you!"

"Just stop!" he shouted. Three hours ago he would have given anything for these words but now they just sounded hollow. "Why should I believe you? What the fuck have you done to prove that you haven't been sleeping with him this_ whole time_?"

"I haven't," Hermione replied automatically, shaking her head so her bushy hair flapped around her. "I promi-"

"Funny, isn't it?" Ron interrupted in a harsh voice. "That you only admit you're wrong _after _I've seen you together-"

"Ron, please-"

"I'm only worth the time of day," Ron continued like he hadn't heard her plea, "_after _he sticks his tongue in your mouth-"

"What do you want me to say?" cut off Hermione with a yell.

Ron glared at her and the defensive stance she took. Nothing about her body language said she was guilty. Ashamed, frantic and even a bit scared, yes… but not guilty. The knowledge that she didn't even feel bad for what she had done, just made Ron want to hear her confession more. The sooner she admitted to what he had seen, the sooner he could rebuild his life and sooner she could go back to fucking Bale.

"I want you to tell me the truth!"

"I came here to do some work," Hermione started explaining very quickly. "Patrick showed up to do the same. I- I was upset and he took advantage of the situation by trying to kiss me but I rejected him!"

Even in his clouded mind set, Ron thought this sounded plausible. Or was that just wishful thinking? Either way, Ron squashed the thought down and changed tactic.

"No wonder he tried his luck if you were slagging me off!" he yelled at her.

"It wasn't-"

"How many times have I been the butt of your jokes, Hermione?" Ron sneered.

"You've never-" she started, looking affronted at the accusation.

"You're just some slag, playing us off of each other!" bellowed Ron so loudly that he felt his throat burn.

Hermione started at him, looking stunned, her protective look, falling away so she looked incredibly vulnerable. It wasn't often Ron could make Hermione speechless. Truth be told, Ron was too shocked by his own words to move but his mouth seemed to keep going without his permission.

"I have been telling you for _months,_" Ron yelled, "that he wanted you but as usual my opinions don't matter because perfect Hermione fucking Granger had spoken!"

"I know I'm not perfect!" Hermione shot back. Ron was grateful to see the beginnings of anger in the way she was frowning slightly and her tiny hands were kept squeezing themselves into fists. If he had carried on screaming at her with that hurt expression she had been wearing previously then he would've started feeling guilty and right now, that wasn't an option.

"And yes," she continued, "you were right!"

"Oh, the one time you let me be right in our entire relationship and it's _this_?" Ron replied, throwing his arms out to the sides, gesturing the mess they had found themselves in. "Well, gee, _thanks_, Hermione," he shot back sarcastically.

"I made a mistake!" Hermione screamed, her face starting to turn red now.

Ron laughed humourlessly. "Which one of us was the mistake though?" he asked her. "Me or him?"

"Him-"

"But I thought he kissed you?" growled Ron. He had her now. She'd tripped up.

"And I didn't kiss him back!" Hermione shouted, her voice echoing off of the high ceiling.

"You shouldn't have been in a position to kiss him back!"

Almost tearing his vocal chords out during his last retort, Ron had to swallow hard, giving time for Hermione to blink and look down. This only infuriated him more. How was he supposed to storm and rage if she looked so helpless?

When she looked back at him, Ron was surprised to see Hermione's eyes glistening with tears.

"Tell me what to say," she said tremulously. "I'll say anything. I'll _do _anything. Just please believe me."

At a different time, on a different day, this would melt any anger Ron had. Deep down he was sure her story was the truth her voice seemed too sincere to be otherwise.

However, this wasn't a different time. This was minutes after he had caught another man kissing her; a man who he had told her repeatedly had a thing for her. This wasn't a different day either. It was still the day she had walked away from him and ended up crying on someone else's shoulder.

It wasn't about if she had been cheating anymore; it was about the complete breakdown of trust between them.

"Like you believed me?" he snarled.

Again, shame passed over Hermione's features. "How many times do you want me to say that I'm sorry? I've left him on the floor, covered in boils and I'm here with you, asking for another chance!" She was clearly fighting to keep her temper under control.

"And you expect to get it straight away?" Ron asked disbelievingly.

"No," Hermione said in a voice of forced calm. "I just need you to believe me!"

"It wouldn't change anything if I did."

"It would let me know that you trust me!" Hermione replied, her voice getting gradually louder. "It would mean there was still some hope. It would-" Suddenly, Hermione closed her eyes, asking for patience, and inhaled deeply. "This is getting us nowhere. We- I'll speak to you tomorrow. Fighting like this won't solve anything."

Despite her words, Hermione stayed where she was, a few tears slowly slipping down her pink cheeks.

"That's it," Ron sneered, "run off to _another_ bloke."

He was still angry. He still needed to vent. If she left, Ron would have nothing to do with the storm inside of him. He needed to keep her here.

For a moment, Ron thought he had succeeded Hermione's eyes flashed and he saw her tense her jaw, fighting back her response. Instead, she took another shaky breath before saying, "Now you're being immature."

Wide eyed and horrified, Ron watched as Hermione turned to her right and started marching towards the fireplaces and Apparition point.

"How many are there exactly?" Ron shot at her. He needed her to snap, to push her to the edge to validate his own anger.

"You're too upset to see sense or think straight," Hermione replied, restrainedly, still walking away. "We need to talk about this but this is just making things worse."

"So you're just walking away?" he shouted at her retreating back.

"And you never have?"

The insult undoubtedly wounded him but it meant he was getting close. Never since she had forgiven him, had Hermione thrown leaving them back in his face. One more hit like that and she'd be _his_ ball of unadulterated rage and he wouldn't feel as responsible for the fallout of this argument.

"Fine," he yelled, taking a few steps towards her. "I'll stay here being _immature_ while you piss off to fuck someone else!"

Ron heard the snap of Hermione's restraint breaking immediately. She turned on her heel and Ron couldn't say that he recognised the face looking back at him. He could barely recognise himself.

"Yes, well maybe I should!"

The second the words left her lips, Hermione gasped and shook her head slightly, clearly appalled at what she had just said. It took Ron longer than it should have done to realise that his mouth was hanging open and that his throat wasn't the only thing that was burning; his eyes were too. Numbly, he could just feel the warm tears on his face but for the life of him he couldn't remember them getting there.

They stared at each other for a few moments, Hermione's final stab at Ron still echoing around the hall. The look in her eyes said that she meant her words as much as he meant his but that didn't mean they could be unsaid.

"I'm not happy, Ron."

Ron closed his eyes and looked down, deflated. He had heard those words in his nightmares before. He knew what happened just before he woke up and checked she was still lying next to him. He had never really imagined he would hear them while awake.

He knew what was about to happen. It was as inevitable as it was painful. Why prolong the agony?

"Is this it?" he asked, meeting her teary eyes.

She looked shocked by his resigned tone. "Do you want it to be?"

"Do you?"

He had been the one brave enough to ask the question so she should be the one to answer it. Really, he had got all the paperwork in order, filled out all of the forms; all she had to do now was sign her name at the bottom and the deal was done. They would be done. It would be over.

Six and a half years of friendship. Eighteen months of something more.

Over.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, almost willing the tears back in but it did nothing but make them fall faster. Forcing them open, she held his gaze as best she could, considering she was now visibly shaking. Ron found he couldn't look at her so he dropped his eyes to his hands that, he noticed for the first time, were curled into fists. His right knuckles were bloody though he couldn't feel any pain.

Never before had Ron been so close to losing what he and Hermione had. Over the past couple of months he had been furious with her and in all probability pushed her away but this was different; before she would always come back. Now, Ron stood on the edge, looking out into the pitch black that was a world without Hermione. It had always been there, he had seen it many times before in fact, but never had it been a genuine possibility that he would have to take that final step into the unknown.

"No."

Her voice was small but sure. The air seemed to disappear from Ron's lungs and he felt light headed. He turned his hands over so he couldn't see the blood anymore and stared at his palms without really seeing them. If he had then he would've seen they were trembling.

It was one word. One simple, two-letter, almost inaudible word but it started a fire somewhere inside of Ron; it was as though his Deluminator had clicked on inside of his head. And as he had once before, he knew what he had to do.

When Ron dazedly looked back at Hermione, she had stopped crying but looked more scared than Ron could remember her being in a long time. Her brown eyes were wide and she was biting down on her bottom lip. Any doubt Ron had evaporated when she arched her eyebrows at him slightly as if to push him for a reply.

"Then marry me."

* * *

_A/N 2: For those of you shaking your heads at the ending I wish to point out some things._

_1. This isn't logic. This is Ron Weasley logic._

_2. It's a proposal, not a _reparo.

_3. Hermione hasn't answered. Yet._


	7. The Best In All Of This

_A/N: I know most of you want to know what happens in this chapter so I'll make this quick (we both know that this is a lie as I seem incapable of keeping these things short)._

_Thank you to all you crazy cats who review/alert/ favourite! Yes, even the ones who think I've gone insane._

_Special thank you to the anon reviewer who regaled me with the tale of his parents engagement (you put "my dad proposed to my wife" but, through the chuckling, I understood what you meant). I'm a sucker for a fun engagement story and the "Fuck the world, we're in love" message in your review put a spring in my step for the rest of the day. __Another special thank you to another anon reviewer who ended their review with "Is this the Harry Potter fandom or the Twilight fandom?" Ouch. You cut me deep, dude. You cut me deep. (You misconstrued the last line you quoted by the way but otherwise I did enjoy your review.)_

_And finally, thank you to wazlib88 for clocking in review number 100. _

_And finally, finally Seven Simple Years recently reached 200 reviews courtesy of Cupid's Heart of Gold so thank you to you as well!_

* * *

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter. Blink 182 owns After Midnight. None of the above would like me to write a fanfic based around I Wanna Fuck a Dog (in the ass)._

_I wasn't joking about thinking of funny disclaimers by the way. This really is the best I'm coming up with. Help me._

* * *

The Best In All Of This

8:15pm. 15th November, 1999

_I can't find the best in all of this_

_But I'm always looking out for you_

_Because you're the one I miss_

The first time Hermione Granger had imagined how she would become engaged, it had been to her toy Bagpuss when she was six years old while her other toys watched. She had put on the special dress her aunt had brought her for her birthday and accidentally ripped it half way through her vows on the altar she had made out of books. The moment she started crying, the rip had repaired itself and Hermione continued with the ceremony. After all, these things happened around her all the time.

The first time Hermione Granger had imagined how she would become engaged to Ron Weasley had been during a dream when she was eleven years old. He had ridden into her bedroom (which for some reason was her Transfiguration classroom) on a three headed dog. Then he had recited a poem about goblins before dropping down on one knee. She had proceeded to throw herself into his arms at which point she had woken up in a cold sweat, rolled over and forgotten the nightmare ever happened.

The first time Hermione Granger had imagined how she would become engaged to Ron Weasley while awake had been when she was sixteen, near the end of a DA meeting where they had been practising stunning and Shield Charms. Ron was getting gradually more frustrated that he hadn't beaten her yet, when a stray stunner from the Creeveys came soaring towards her from behind. Ron had put up a Shield Charm behind her in the nick of time, just as she, clueless to her near-miss, shot a stunner that hit him square in the chest. With as many "thank you"s and "sorry"s as she could muster, Hermione had _enervated_ Ron and pulled him to his feet. Grumbling, he had cracked a joke about how they should "make this a more equal partnership."

As she stood facing him, her hand still in his, his smile slowly breaking down another barrier, Hermione's imagination had gone into free fall and soon she could see the boy in front of her, asking her to join him in another kind of equal partnership.

The reality of the actual moment Ron Weasley first proposed to her had been unlike any pretend game, dream or fantasy she had ever had.

She had tears scorching her cheeks. She was close to hyperventilating. She was preparing herself for the final blow of what had been a three month long fight. The flowers she was meant to have been presented with were in pieces four of floors above her. The romantic build up had been a blazing row in which Ron had called her a slag. The proposal itself hadn't been a question popped in a romantic setting by a nervous but happy man who had been planning the moment for weeks, but a suggestion in a deserted atrium that sounded like the last act of desperate man who had only just had the idea.

To say it wasn't quite perfect would have been the understatement of the century.

Staring at the teenager twenty feet in front of her, looking like he had recently won the lottery and had no idea what to do with the money, Hermione said the only thing that her brilliant mind could put together.

"_What?_"

"Marry me," breathed Ron in the same faraway voice.

Hermione, still panting heavily from their argument, tried desperately to work out what Ron had just said because there was no way it could have been what she had heard. She had been expecting him to say that they should break up. If he had said that he never wanted to see her again after what she had just said, Hermione wouldn't have been shocked as she was disgusted in herself as well. Even if he had told her that he would help pack her things and carry them, on foot, to her parents', she would've been less surprised than she currently was.

The whole time Hermione was working out what had happened to the nerves, hairs and bones that translated sound from waves into something her brain could understand, Ron stood looking wide eyed into the distance, his hands still held out in front of him.

"Are you _mental_?"

Ron shrugged. "Maybe."

There were so many questions and responses trying to force their way out of Hermione's mouth that all she could do was splutter. After the start of the fifth aborted sentence, Ron finally focussed on her. A smile started creeping onto his cheeks unnervingly slowly.

"It's so easy," chuckled Ron. His sudden change from furious anger to dazed happiness was disconcerting. "We just promise not to let it get this bad again and then-"

"We can't resolve our issues by just _saying_ we will-" interjected Hermione.

"Why?"

The boy was infuriating. Lovable, maddening and gorgeously infuriating.

"We just can't!"

"We're still us!"

He wasn't joking, she could tell. Every part of him seemed to be buzzing with a new found purpose, his eyes alight with promise and his voice had never sounded so sure. Ron stared at her, unfazed by her less than unenthusiastic response for a full five seconds before Hermione breathed, "You're serious."

"You know we'll be all right in the end," Ron insisted.

"You're actually serious."

"We've definitely been through worse."

"He's actually serious."

"We've never needed an excuse to make up before," continued Ron like Hermione had been a part of this discussion and not a poor victim who had been casually passing a mad man who then sucked her into his plans, unawares. "It usually just… happens!"

"This is different!" Hermione shouted, finally finding a reasonable argument. "You've just insinuated that I'm having multiple affairs and I used something against you that I _never dreamt_ that I would! Which part of this to you screams_ marriage_?"

"It's you and me!" he answered with a goofy smile that would have melted her hear instantly if it weren't for the insane conversation they were having.

"We're a mess!"

For the first time since their vicious argument had taken a dramatic turn for the weird, Ron frowned. "What is going to realistically happen here?" he asked seriously. "One of us moves out," he continued, counting on his hands. "Both of us will be miserable. I'll drunkenly turn up at your house and humiliate myself. You'll come up with crazed plan to get back at me, but it'll just make you feel worse."

Now that Ron seemed to have some focus, Hermione found herself unable to speak. Through all the flailing hand gestures and almost crazed determination in his eyes, Ron did make a good point.

"Then one of us will have a near-death experience and we'll realise how important the other one is," he finished, holding his arms out to the sides. He let them fall and stared at her sadly. The pattern was undeniably familiar to Hermione. Both of them were stubborn by nature and, if the other was involved, it only seemed to exacerbate things.

In fact, looking back, none of their arguments seemed to have been ended by one of them. When they fell out over Scabbers' apparent death, it had been joint concern for Hagrid and Buckbeak that had brought them back together. After the canary incident, it had taken Ron nearly dying for her to suck in her pride. Last year, both of them had to be nearly caught by snatchers at the Lovegoods' home for her to even talk to him again. How many quarrels had been cut short over the years just so that they could stand beside and support Harry?

Each time their problems had been buried; nothing was ever really discussed afterwards. Nothing was ever really fixed.

"I don't want to go through the cycle again," Ron almost shouted. "I'm sick of it! We're better than that. We're Ron and Hermione!" He held his hands out again and smiled widely. "When we're on form, we're fucking fantastic! We're meant for each other!"

Maybe this was all it took? All it ever needed was one of them to hold up a white flag… break the chain…

Hermione shook herself when she realised that she was considering Ron's offer. She never imagined a situation would occur that would have her saying "no" to Ron's marriage proposal when it came, but the whole thing was preposterous. Admitting they had problems, big ones at that, wasn't even close to solving them.

"You can't just end an argument and fix everything by proposing!" she yelled at him, exasperatedly.

_Good,_ the only part of Hermione's brain that wasn't numb thought, _logic still seems to be functioning_.

Ron seemed to deflate slightly. Hermione watched as he swallowed and looked down for a moment, a crease between his eyebrows just visible underneath his thick fringe.

"I know. I'm not trying to fix everything," he said in a low voice that was more serious than anything Hermione had ever heard come out of his mouth before. He finally looked up at her. "I'm – I'm promising that I won't ever stop trying to."

Hermione felt a shiver go down her spine. Her throat was too dry for her to speak, but even if it wasn't, she didn't know what she could say. He was still miles away from her, on the other side of the atrium by the Phoenix Memorial, but it felt like Ron was right in front of her. She could almost feel his breath on her face.

"I love you, more than I can put into words," he said sincerely, simultaneously managing to look both vulnerable and strong, "more than _you _could probably put into words. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives and I _know_ that isn't always going to be parties and picnics. I _know_ we'll make mistakes. I know you'll storm out and I know I'll be an idiot." Ron straightened up to his full height. "But I am _never_ giving up on us. Never. I don't care what it takes."

The air was still and the room was silent. Hermione was aware that she hadn't taken breath throughout Ron's speech but it didn't seem to matter. She was almost scared by the look of determination in his eyes.

"Hermione Granger," said Ron, "will you marry me?"

This was a decision that took deep thought and careful consideration. It needed time and logical reflection. Pro and con lists. Serious internal debate. An objective plan for the future. Research. Eight hours sleep and a healthy breakfast. A clear head.

It was these thoughts that were running through Hermione's mind as her legs carried her slowly towards Ron almost against her will. As she stood in front of him, her heart hammering in her ears, she snaked her hands behind his head and pulled it down so he was looking down at her, but she didn't meet his eyes. Instead, she stared straight ahead at his chest, unseeing, as Ron gripped her waist.

Hermione knew she must look possessed as her eyes flicked from left to right as though the answer to Ron's question was hiding in the periphery of her vision. Her brain, famed for its speed and brilliance, seemed to be filled with smoke as her body spoke for her. Tentatively, she tilted her face up to meet his, hesitating for a split second before crushing her mouth against his.

Straight away Ron pulled her close to him so that she could scarcely breathe as she gripped his hair so tightly that she was sure it would be causing him pain if it hadn't been for him battling furiously for control of the kiss. Eventually, Hermione pulled away and pressed her forehead against Ron's and finally opened her eyes to see his dark blue ones staring back at her, both of them out of breath.

"_Never _speak to me like that again," she growled as she felt yet more tears threaten to consume her.

"Don't ever say you want to be with someone else," he replied through gritted teeth before claiming her lips again.

* * *

_A/N 2: So… short chapter with no real answer to the question most people wanted an answer to…_

_As an apology, I decided to put the first chapter of the fic I was going to start uploading after this up later today. The first couple of chapters are pretty much written, they just need editing, so this fic will still be my priority and updates will still be regular. Promise._

_It's called Nineteen Days Later, set nineteen days after the Battle of Hogwarts and is from multiple POVs. Feel free to go have a look._

_To make up for two shameless plugs in a row here is a selfless one:_

_A Terrible Disclosure by Shocolate – It's over on rhrlove . com (an awesome site if you like Ron and Hermione, just delete the spaces). Its a couple of years old so a few of you have probably read it before, but oh well. One of the most original plots I have ever come across. It's funny, angsty and everything you could possibly want from a R/Hr fic._


	8. After Midnight

_A/N: Thank you to all reviewers/favouriters/alerters from the last chapter. Would it be egotistical of me to start referring to you as the Slug Club? I'd give you a choke-on-able sized pheasant? No? I'll throw in some crystallised pineapple? Sure? Fine. Have a chapter instead._

_Disclaimer: Blink 182 own After Midnight. J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and I hereby vow never to change the names of her characters, remove any mention of magic, call this story 50 Shades of Ginger and make a shed-load of profit from it that I don't deserve because I'd essentially be stealing._

_Not that this would ever be allowed to happen of course._

* * *

After Midnight

12:00am. 16th November, 1999

_We'll stagger home after midnight_

_Sleep arm in arm in the stairwell_

If you had asked Hermione what had happened in the hour after she had kissed Ron, she would have told you how they had somehow staggered backwards, still attached at the mouth, towards the Apparition point and transported themselves to the front step of twelve Grimmauld Place. She would have recalled how she had only been able to lament not being able to Apparate straight into the house for a split second before Ron lifted her up and pinned her against the door. As she wrapped her legs around his waist and started attacking his belt, she felt grateful that they were invisible to everyone else.

She would have also mentioned how, when he had finally got his wand out and unlocked the door, Ron had stumbled forward and pushed her roughly against the space of wall that Mrs Back used to occupy, causing her to remember a very similar incident that had happened when it still had that had ended in said portrait screaming about "Blood traitors and mudbloods fornicating in the house of her fathers". She would have recalled wrenching her lips away from Ron's long enough for her to breathlessly say, "Harry?" and him to reply "out" before resuming, not really caring if he was making it up like the time their friend had nearly caught them.

She would have then gone on to say that Ron had somehow managed to undo her robes and was now fondling her, as she tried to pull his top over his head before he mumbled, "fuck it" and Apparated them to his room where he had thrown her on the bed and they had both ended up naked within a minute.

Maybe if she had had a glass of wine too many, Hermione would have told you how clear it was that Ron was still harbouring some anger in the way he grabbed her hips and attacked her neck with his mouth. Normally when he was being possessive and aggressive, Hermione fought back and gave him as good as she got, but this time she let him pin her to the bed, knowing that she deserved every bit of sweet punishment he gave her.

Finally, she would have said that, after being thoroughly shagged by the man who had just proposed to her, they had fallen asleep curled up together, both emotionally and physically spent.

If you had asked him the same question, Ron would've recalled the whole thing was dreamlike and that he had no idea what was going on. One minute he was fucking angry and the next he was balls-deep in the woman he loved, so overwhelmed and in love that he could barely see.

When Ron woke up, he didn't open his eyes straight away. His mind was still clogged with sleep and he wasn't entirely sure where he was. It took him a couple of seconds to register that his face was buried in a pile of fluffy stuff that smelt familiar…

_Hermione._

Despite wanting to go back to sleep, Ron forced his eyes open and found himself face to face with masses of brown hair. Now that he was more awake, he also noticed the warm skin underneath his left palm and the slender legs, entwined with his own. Hermione was back in his bed.

Slowly but surely, the events that had led up to this slowly dripped back into his brain and Ron's face broke into a smile. He had proposed and she had said-

Well, she hadn't answered as such, but a mind-blowing shag was hardly a "no", was it?

The bones in his neck cracking in protest, Ron shifted on his pillow to find that Hermione, as she often did, had been watching him sleep. His smile widened when her cheeks coloured, showing that she was embarrassed about being caught. Before she realised that this wasn't how the evening was meant to turn out and left him, Ron shuffled over, while pulling her closer to him. When she didn't wince or say any sentence containing words or phrases like "mistake", "out of hand" or "clearly spiked with Love Potion", he kissed her as close to her mouth as he could manage having just woken up.

His heart nearly swelled to twice its normal side when she moved her lips so that they were in line with his and kissed him back.

"That was…" Ron began, when he had pulled away.

"Unexpected?" suggested Hermione.

"I was going to go with 'brilliant.'"

Hermione smiled slowly, still too tired to react in any other fashion. She snuggled up against Ron's chest, as his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she sighed contentedly. They could just stay here, exchanging soft touches and lazy kisses, and never have to face the world. They could even hide from themselves if they tried hard enough.

As the haze of sleep continued to fade, Hermione knew that this wasn't the case.

"It doesn't change anything though."

At her words, Ron stiffened a little. He couldn't see her face from where it rested on top of his torso, but he could tell by her voice that she was nervous about admitting this. To him, everything had changed; what was once a dark tunnel that seemed endless now had light shining at the end of it.

"It proves we can still do this," he reasoned, stroking her hair. "It proves we can still be _here_."

"We still need to properly talk though," Hermione said as she moved her head to face him. "We can't just… _shag _our problems away."

"Shame," yawned Ron.

"Isn't it?"

There was silence for a few minutes while they both collected their thoughts. Progress had undoubtedly been made, but they had only made the first step and there was still mountain to climb. Right now, the mountain seemed so far away and where they were now was exceedingly comfortable.

Hermione steeled herself to pop the happy bubble they had encased themselves in. Burying problems had never served them well in the past; it could only make things regress if they carried on doing it now.

"Well," she said, "if we start by just-"

"Not now," groaned Ron, recognising her business-like tone. "Let's… Let's go away somewhere this weekend. I'll get it off from George and we'll just go… anywhere. Just us."

Rather than think that he was just procrastinating, Hermione considered Ron's idea. Not since Australia had they gone on any form of holiday. There had always been something like work or school in the way and neither of them really had the money. Surely if they removed all distractions they would find it easier to confront their issues. Or, without the distractions, would they realise all they had left was a complete lack of trust and an arsenal of insults?

"That is a good idea…" Hermione finally replied thoughtfully. "We could reconnect and-"

"I'm planning on that," smirked Ron. Hermione punched him in the ribs, but ruined the effect of being annoyed by giggling in a way she only ever seemed to when she was alone with Ron.

A small play fight later and Hermione was back to being curled up against Ron's side. He felt her sigh and knew that he was on to a winner with his Going Away plan. Time to themselves could only help because Ron knew that under all the harsh words and resentment that they were still the same two school kids who acted stupidly, saved the world and fell in love.

"I'm still going to go to my parents' for a couple of days."

Ron frowned. He hadn't been expecting that. "Oh."

"Say it," Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes.

"What? I just said-"

"Ron."

Giving up his façade of understanding and nonchalance, Ron shifted so that he was lying facing Hermione. One minute they were getting along fine, better than they had done in weeks, with a plan to get them out of the mess they had been in and the next they were having the same discussion they had had before Hermione had stormed out.

"Why? I thought we were getting over this?"

"We will," Hermione reassured him, placing a hand on his cheek. "I just think we still need some time apart to think everything through."

"Why can't we do that together?" asked Ron.

"I need to think."

"About what?" Ron exclaimed. She couldn't be rethinking their relationship… but what else was there to think about?

Hermione found she couldn't meet Ron's eyes. The guilt she had been harbouring since Patrick had kissed her had begun festering until it was all she could think about. Ron seemed ready to forget everything that had happened and move forward, but for her it couldn't be that simple.

"I… I've learnt some things about myself today that I…" she said quietly. How could she explain to him that she would happily go back in time a couple of months and slap herself? "I just need to sort myself out before I can start on us. It'll only be until Friday," she promised, looking at him imploringly.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron asked bemused. "I don't see how not being together will help us."

She recognised the stubborn set to his jaw and knew she had to tell him the truth, no matter how ugly it was.

"I don't like who I'm seeing in the mirror," she whispered, "and until I do, I can't expect you to either."

Hermione looked Ron in the eyes and saw he still didn't like her decision. After a few moments he sighed and rolled onto his back.

"Fine."

It was clearly far from fine.

"We can still go to lunch together?" she offered tentatively.

Ron scoffed. "Lunch?"

Her disappearing for a couple of days wasn't what Ron wanted. No good could possibly come from them being separated. Although, Hermione had never been this open about her mistakes before. Usually there would be a sincere apology and then she would move on. Maybe she wanted to research relationship tips?

"I'm sorry, Ron," he heard her say as she settled back against him, "but I really need to do this. Don't you want some space to think?"

"No," he replied, putting his arm around her out of habit. "When I get given 'space to think' I come to the wrong conclusion and balls everything up."

"Well, this time I _ballsed up _and I would prefer it if that never happened again," Hermione said softly, placing a kiss on his shoulder.

Ron tried to remember the last time he had messed up so badly that he couldn't see a way back. The only time he could think of was when he had walked out of the tent that rainy autumn night. Hadn't he benefited from having time to get his head straight? The hours he had spent analysing where he went wrong, which things he had misunderstood, what he shouldn't have said… He'd come out of the experience a better person. He had been stronger and more confident.

Maybe Hermione needed the same thing?

"Fine," he repeated, but in a different tone. He kissed her forehead to show he meant it. If it all ended in them being happy then he would give her time, like she had given him after Fred had died and he had given her when she went back to Hogwarts.

"It's not a break or anything, I promise," Hermione insisted. "These problems aren't going to disappear overnight. This is only the start."

"Well, we have the rest of our lives to sort it out," Ron said with a smile. As he spoke however, Ron remembered the thing that had been eating at him since he had woken up. He considered not asking her, but things were so peaceful in the room. Even if she broke his heart with her response, Ron had a feeling they would somehow still be okay. Somehow they had stepped out of reality, taken a break from living. Honesty was the policy of the day because it couldn't really hurt them. Not here.

"You never did give me an answer."

As soon as Hermione heard him trying to pass off the statement as a casual thing, she knew that he desperately wanted a proper response. If she were honest with herself, Hermione hadn't really thought of her answer. Every time she allowed herself to think about it, her brain froze.

"Surly actions speak louder than words?" She was trying to buy more time and they both knew it.

"I want- I want to hear it," Ron said, sounding so vulnerable that Hermione found herself wanting hold him until the sun died and took out the Earth and everything else with it.

Even without everything that had happened between them these past weeks, Hermione thought there were many reasons why they shouldn't get married. She had only just turned twenty for a start. Ron was still a teenager. They had just started their respective careers. They didn't have enough money to have a place to live by themselves. Apart from one short conversation they had had last Christmas, they had never discussed marriage, let alone anything else.

And yet…

All of those reasons would fade with time. They could save money, age and move up in their jobs while being married. Why wait?

It all came down to if she thought they could revert back to how they were before things had fallen apart. If they couldn't, then it was over. If they could, then there was nothing stopping her from becoming Hermione Weasley.

_Hermione Weasley… _It was like something from a fifteen year old's daydream. A doodle on her Charms notes. A teasing comment from a friend.

She pulled herself up, crossed her arms over his chest and rested her head on them. His eyes were hopeful even though he was clearly trying to maintain a straight face. Since his Auror training, Ron's ability to keep his emotions to himself had improved dramatically – unless he was speaking to her. With her, he couldn't hide even the slightest shift in his mood, just like she couldn't with him.

"It goes against every scrap of logic and reason I possess," Hermione said breathlessly, "but… yes."

"What do you mean by that?" frowned Ron indignantly.

"That came out wrong," Hermione grimaced. Ron continued looking hurt while she tried to piece together what she had actually meant, only to find that she had got it right the first time. "About six hours ago this relationship was hanging by its last thread and you proposed at the end of the worst argument we have ever had. What part of that is logical?" she finished with an incredulous laugh.

"You have a point. It is a _bit_ weird," Ron admitted thoughtfully.

"Well, nothing else about our relationship has been normal," Hermione said pragmatically, "so why should this be?"

Ron didn't appear to have heard her. "Now that I think about it, why _are_ you saying yes?"

Hermione giggled again and mentally chastised herself. What next? Subscribing to _Witch Weekly_? Faced with Ron's direct question, she gave the answer that a tiny voice had been screaming since he had proposed and possibly before that.

"I love you."

She kissed him briefly on the lips and watched as realisation dawned on his boyish features, a smile spreading across his face.

"So you're really agreeing to this?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"_Yes_," laughed Hermione. "Why are you so shocked?"

"I thought you'd want to wait 'til we're older or… y'know," Ron shrugged, "over _this_."

Ron watched as Hermione adopted a serious expression and tried to imitate her. This all still felt like a dream to him and he was only vaguely aware that this was one of the most life changing conversations he was ever likely to have. Plus it was hard to concentrate while her tits were pressed up against him like they were.

"Well, obviously we'll work through this," Hermione said as Ron tucked her hair behind her ear, "like I have no doubt that we will and then we can start planning it." Hermione smiled. "Then we can get married."

"What if-"

"We'll get through whatever we have to."

And just like that it hit him that Hermione Granger had agreed to marry him, even though he had thought about very little in the time he had been awake for the past six hours. Even with the promise of some hard work and difficult changes in the future, it still felt like Christmas morning and his birthday all rolled into one.

With a great shout of laughter, he caught Hermione off guard and pulled her completely on top of him. He caught her shriek of surprise in a kiss as he buried one hand in her hair and let the other slide down to her arse, giving it a small squeeze that earned him a smile.

Before they got too carried away, Hermione rolled over so she was lying on the opposite side of Ron with her legs still draped over his, a ridiculous smile on her face.

"S'pose I should get you a ring then," sighed Ron.

"You don't have to," she replied automatically.

Ron laughed. "Nah, I'm pretty sure that's part of the whole engagement thing."

Hermione watched her index finger drawing random patterns between the freckles on Ron's shoulders. While she didn't mind the odd drink being brought for her, she always felt uncomfortable when Ron brought her gifts out of the blue. She was flattered, yes, but she didn't want him thinking he had to buy her things for her to stay with him or any nonsense like that. His counter argument had always been that he wasn't used to having money and had no idea what else to spend it on.

"I'd rather you saved your money for somewhere for us to live," she said without thinking.

"We live here," said Ron blankly.

"Now we do," replied Hermione delicately, "but we can't really live here when we're married."

It seemed obvious to her that as a married couple they'd need their own space, but the look on Ron's said that he hadn't thought about it. The longer this conversation went on, the more it dawned on Hermione that they had a lot more to talk about than some fairly serious trust issues.

"What about Harry?"

"Well," deadpanned Hermione, "obviously we'll have to cut him out of our lives completely."

Ron rolled his eyes, but his mouth twitched in amusement. "No, seriously."

Hermione thought about it. It seemed like the logical step. Surely Harry didn't think that they'd be living with him forever? Besides, when they did move out, she doubted their beds would be cold before Ginny took up residence in the old house.

"We'd give him fair warning," Hermione reassured him. "We still have to resolve our issues before we can even think about it and, even if we didn't, it's not like we could afford to move out. We'll probably still see him every day."

"Probably?" repeated Ron sounding dismayed.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Did you propose to the wrong person?"

"No… no, it's just… well," Ron stammered sheepishly, "I've always lived with Harry."

Hermione had never really thought about it before. Since the day they had met, Ron and Harry had probably only spent a few months not sleeping in the same building, or even the same room. It was slowly becoming apparent that she had been naïve thinking that getting married wouldn't change a lot more than her surname.

"I know," she said gently, "but we're growing up."

Ron pouted slightly. Hermione could see the cogs working in his head, probably trying to work out a way to keep them living at Grimmauld Place forever. However, Ron surprised her.

"Can we get somewhere with two bedrooms?" he asked.

"I don't snore, you know."

"No," Ron said seriously. "One can be Harry's room. For when he stops over or pisses Ginny off."

"I'm sure we can stretch to that," smiled Hermione. Ron surprising her was happening more and more frequently. The immature, tactless boy was slowly falling away to reveal the man she always thought he could be. Or maybe he was already there and she just hadn't seen it before?

"We can't always have a spare room for him though," Hermione said quickly and regretted it almost immediately. As usual, her desire to be right, that definitely existed, no matter what she told Ron and Harry, had overrode the sensible part of her brain that was telling her that this was far from the best time to be having this discussion.

"Why?"

"We don't have to talk about this now," replied Hermione, rolling onto her other side so her back was to Ron.

"No," said Ron. He leant over her so that he could see her flushed face. "What?"

"I shouldn't have even brought it up-"

"Hermione."

He wasn't going to let it drop.

"We've never really talked about marriage," Hermione said slowly, "have we?"

A crease appeared between Ron's eyebrows. "Well, no."

Rolling onto her back with Ron's arms either side of her, Hermione bit her lip and looked up into his concerned face. This was unchartered territory and definitely not the type of discussion that should happen while they were still technically on the rocks. Although, if there was even the slightest chance of them getting married it needed to happen, so Hermione took a deep breath and continued.

"Or anything else along those lines."

"Such as?"

"Your unhealthy attachment to Harry?"

"No, really."

Ron watched as Hermione swallowed and nervously fidgeted with her hands. She still couldn't look him in the eye.

"Well," she croaked nervously, "everything. Where we'll live… Children…"

It didn't take a highly trained Auror to spot which part of that sentence was the cause to this entire conversation.

"Children?" he repeated. "That's what you're worried about?"

Hermione's already pink cheeks turned almost red at his words. Slowly, a horrible thought crept up on Ron.

"Do- do you not want kids?" he asked trying to not sound as horrified as he felt. He had never for one minute doubted that Hermione wanted to be a mother. Obviously she would want to wait for her career to settle and for them to have enough money, but Ron had been so sure that one she would be a great mum that he had never thought to ask her about it.

"Do you?" she whispered. For once her face was annoyingly unreadable.

"You know I do."

They'd never spoken about it before, but Ron hadn't really kept it a secret either. He had told her before they were together that he'd always wanted a daughter, a daughter she had immediately pictured with bushy, ginger hair and in her arms.

"Not for a few years yet, but yes," Hermione told him.

"Really?"

"Is that going to be your reaction every time I say 'yes' to something?" she said, trying to sound exasperated, but smiling widely at the same.

"You want my kids?" he asked her in wonder.

"I want your kids," giggled Hermione before giving him a quick kiss. "When you're less of a child yourself, of course."

"I make no guarantees."

Ron pulled her into a long, slow kiss and for a few minutes Patrick Bale, destroyed flowers and vicious insults never happened. Hermione knew they couldn't stay in this dreamland where they could just forget everything forever. While the idea of just moving on and planning the rest of their lives was wonderful, she knew that unless their marriage was built on something strong, it would just crumble. The conversations they were having proved they had the right materials; they just had to make the foundations.

"How many?" asked Hermione, breaking the kiss. Somehow she had ended up with Ron lying on top of her, but she had no idea how he had got there.

Ron looked at her in a daze, his hair sticking up all over the place. "How many what?"

"_Children._"

"Oh," Ron smiled stupidly. "Less than seven. What about you?"

"More than one."

Ron laughed. "I think we can work within those margins," he said in a low voice, leaning back towards her lips. They started kissing again and Hermione prepared herself for what was heating up to become more than just a snog, only for Ron to pull away, leaving her feeling slightly bereft.

"Anyway, that's ages away," Ron said with a silly grin. "I've got to get you a ring first."

"Ron-"

"Hang on."

Without further ado, Ron hopped out of the bed, causing Hermione to get hit by a blast of cold air. By the time she had sat up and secured the duvet around her, Ron was halfway over to the heavy blue curtains that covered his large window. Unable to stop herself, Hermione allowed her eyes to drop down to admire Ron's bum, guiltily noticing the scratch marks that covered it. She probably should cut her nails.

"Oi!" Ron called over his shoulder when he noticed her ogling him and biting her lip. "No drooling on my bed sheets!"

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Hermione watched Ron fiddle with the top of the curtains and removed the last wooden ring that attached the fabric to the curtain rail. Unfazed by his nudity, Ron found his wand amongst the piles of clothing that were scattered over his bedroom floor and shrank the ring so it was roughly the diameter of a finger.

"You know," commented Hermione when Ron clambered back under the covers to sit next to her and proudly held his handiwork out to her, "most women expect an engagement ring to cost three weeks wages."

"You're not most women," he countered with a wink. "Besides this isn't your real ring. This is just to tide you over until I get you a proper one."

"You redefine romance with every other breath."

"Thank you."

When they had stopped laughing, Ron took Hermione's hand and, after a quick glance to check that he had permission, slipped the curtain hook onto her ring finger. Even though this was essentially a practise run, Hermione still felt tears form in her eyes. Ron kissed her softly and she cupped his cheek with her right hand. Feeling the strange wooden lump pressing into his face, Ron smiled. Really, for a plan he was making up on the spot, this was all going very well.

"This is not how I pictured this moment," she chuckled wetly when they had broken apart.

"What?" questioned Ron in mock-offense. "Did you want me on horse or something?"

"Fully clothed would have been closer to what I had in mind."

Ron laughed. "I'll do it properly when I get the proper ring."

Seeing the pure excitement on his face, Hermione knew that even the most impassioned speech about how she didn't want to be materialistic and that their love couldn't be measured by the size of a rock on her finger couldn't stop Ron going out and spending all of his savings on the best ring that he could find.

"Promise you won't spend too much," she told him, worrying her lip.

"It's me," Ron reminded her with a quick kiss. "You'll be lucky if it isn't made of chocolate."

Eventually they settled down again in each other's arms and started to fall back to sleep. Both of them seemed to have forgotten that they had work tomorrow and it was the early hours of the morning. Hermione felt Ron sigh and felt a twinge of unease. If they allowed themselves to be caught up in the idea of being engaged, then they would never fix the underlying problems that could resurface at any minute. Before they went to sleep and started to forget the hurt and the anger from earlier, she had to address the biggest issues.

"Ron?"

"Hmm?" he replied. He had not long closed his heavy eyes and was waiting for what promised to be a brilliant sleep to come.

"You do know that I would never cheat on you?"

Ron's insides froze as he felt the shadow that had been following them for the past few months catch up with them. He knew they couldn't run away from this forever, but couldn't she just leave it for tonight? He had been deliriously happy pretending that they didn't have to have this discussion for a couple of days at least. Although, this was Hermione. She always wanted to do stuff ahead of schedule. If they left it up to him, they wouldn't have 'The Talk' until after the honeymoon.

Although, the more he thought about it, the more he understood why Hermione would want an answer to that question sooner rather than later. If he had been the one accused of cheating, he would want an apology and an explanation pretty quickly.

Did he think Hermione would ever cheat on him?

The answer was obvious. It was the reason he had been so shocked and hurt by what he had seen in her office and why he was so ready to believe her when she had told him that he was mistaken.

He realised that he had been silent for a few minutes now and was surprised that Hermione had waited so patiently for him to reply.

"Yeah," he said, planting a kiss on her forehead. "'Course. You're too good for stuff like that."

"I couldn't-" she began before her voice caught. "I could never hurt you like that."

Ron rolled onto his side so he was facing her. Her eyes were wide and slightly watery so Ron kissed her and tried to somehow show how much he trusted her.

"Every bloke in the world could want you and I'd still know you wouldn't," he said seriously. "I mean, I wouldn't like it one bit, but yeah," he smiled again. "I trust you."

"Thank you. Just," Hermione sniffled, "please act like it next time."

"I will."

Hermione looked down and sniffed. While he hated seeing her like this, Ron had no idea what else to say. Words had never been his strong point, but he knew he needed to say something special to convince her that he really did trust her. Before he could think of something, Hermione had spoken again.

"Saying we'll change doesn't mean that we actually will."

"I'm going to try," promised Ron. Even to him this sounded pathetic. When he needed to say something brilliant, he came up with _that_? How was it that he only seemed to get those incredible reactions out of Hermione when he wasn't trying to?

"So will I," Hermione said, looking up at him. She seemed to consider something before catching Ron off guard with her next sentence. "Do you want me to get a new job?"

"What?" Ron would have thought that she was joking if it weren't for look in her eyes.

"I mean it," she continued, placing each of her hands on his cheeks. "If you don't want me near Patrick, I will quit and I promise never to resent you for it or anything like that."

"You love your job," Ron said blankly. Truthfully he hadn't even thought about her still working with Patrick. He was so shocked by her offer that he had no idea how to respond to it. He could still remember the day she had got the job. The letter he had received from Hogwarts via express owl had been covered in ink splashes where she had been so excited she hadn't taken her usual care in her handwriting. Even though Ron had never seen the girls' dormitories, he could still picture her jumping up and down and telling everyone she knew that she had a job.

"I love you more," Hermione whispered, "and it's about time I got my priorities sorted."

The jealous boy that was still inside of Ron punched the air at the thought that he was getting more attention than her job and that she loved him more. It was true that she often became absorbed in her paperwork, but she had never put it before him. On the occasions that she had to cancel her plans with him to do work, she was always apologetic and made it up to him.

The only problem Ron had with her job was Bale. Upon realising this, Ron immediately wanted her to quit the Ministry altogether and move her to a cave in the Alps where Bale could never lay eyes on her again but his promise to trust her stopped him. If he allowed her to give up a position that she loved to just to reassure his insecurities then he was hardly showing that he thought that nothing was happening between her and Bale. Why should she have to make sacrifices just because some tosser didn't understand boundaries?

"No."

Hermione stared at him in shock.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I'd do it. I swear I would-"

"I know you would," Ron interrupted, "but no. I reckon you can keep Bale in his place."

She continued gawping at him, only a little less teary than before, while Ron smiled at her. "You managed to put up with me on prefect rounds when I was with Lavender," he pointed out, "so you can deal with that dickhead."

"That was different," Hermione said. "He was a friend I barely knew and you are the love of my life."

Ron couldn't have fought the smile off of his face if he had tried. The way she used past tense when talking about Bale seemed to put any doubts he had to bed. Ron knew that she loved him, she showed him in many different ways, some of which he could even mention in front of his mum, but he couldn't ever remember her saying that he was the love of her life before. Hermione, with her extensive vocabulary, rarely misspoke or couldn't find the right words for a situation, so Ron knew the weight behind this sentiment.

He was the first boy she had loved and he would be the only man she would ever love. Ron couldn't ask her for more.

As she watched the meaning of her words dawn on him, Hermione felt yet another twinge of guilt. When they were first together, every compliment they gave each other was met with such surprise and happiness because it had never occurred to either of them that other was just as enamoured as they were. As time went on, more secrets were revealed and the kind words weren't as surprising anymore.

So how was it that after a year and a half, Ron still looked astounded to discover that he was the love of her life?

Hermione kissed Ron, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and pushing him onto his back.

"A lot of the time," she said in a low voice, her hair falling over the sides of his face, "I just assume you know how wonderful I think you are, but from now on I promise to let you know how proud I am of you for helping George as well as becoming an Auror." She kissed him again, this time on the corner of his mouth. "And how you always put your family and other people first yet still achieve your dreams."

She was hoping that her tone was seductive and, judging by the way that Ron seemed hypnotised by her words and movements, Hermione was on the right track. She shuffled closer to him, so that she was nearly lying on top of him, and continued kissing her way across his stubbly jaw.

"How honoured I am that you love me, have put up with me and have not even looked at another girl since we got together. How happy I am for you when you crack a big case or get given extra responsibility that most people of your seniority haven't at work," Hermione continued, punctuating each point with another kiss. She felt something stir against her thigh and, unable to stop the smirk growing on her face, decided to up the ante and drop her voice to a near whisper.

"How completely-" _kiss_ "-utterly-" _kiss_ "-and unfailingly in love I am with the strong-" _kiss_ "-brilliant-" _kiss_ "-smart-" _kiss_ "-generous-" _kiss_ "-kind-" _kiss_ "-and _incredibly_ sexy-" This time she sucked gently on his ear lobe and he shivered, "-man you are." She propped herself up on her elbows and looked down to see that Ron was red in the face and his blue eyes had darkened in lust.

"Oh and how all that heavy lifting George is making you do is definitely paying off," she added, caressing the beginnings of a six-pack that was starting to form on Ron's stomach.

"You noticed?" asked Ron, his eyes lighting up.

"Of course I noticed!" laughed Hermione in disbelief. While Ron had never been a bag of bones, in the past few months his slim frame had started bulking up and he could lift her up as though she weighed less than a feather. He wasn't exactly built like a body builder, but Hermione didn't want him to be as then he wouldn't be Ron. Still, the way his tops were a bit tighter nowadays had definitely caused her to lose her train of thought more than a few times.

"Oh," Ron shrugged, trying and failing not to look smug. "It's just that… well, you never mentioned it so I just thought…" he trailed off when he saw the look on Hermione's face.

_Never mentioned it…_

She had been admiring the changes in Ron's body for months and she really hadn't mentioned it once? When she had started gaining weight after the war had ended and she was eating proper meals again, Ron noticed when she had gone up a bra size. When she had cut her hair shorter, Ron was the first person to compliment her. He had even said how nice she looked in her school robes after he had been seeing her wear them for years. She could always depend on him to reassure her or build up her confidence.

But every time Ron achieved something or looked particularly nice… She was nowhere to be found.

"I've been a terrible girlfriend," Hermione said, her bottom lip trembling.

Ron stared at her aghast. Hermione didn't admit to failure.

"You weren't-" he began but Hermione didn't want to hear him comfort her. Now she thought about it, no wonder he thought she might have been interested in Patrick because she hadn't taken a blind bit of notice of him.

"No, I was-" Hermione stammered, trying to think of the right word, "I was just _awful_. I took you for granted, didn't listen to you. I even brought up the locket! I've hardly been supportive-"

Ron lifted his head up enough to cut her off with a soft kiss. When he pulled back, he gave her a small, reassuring smile. The hurt still lingered on his face, in every part of him and it killed Hermione to have put it there. Though he didn't contradict her, (Hermione doubted that he could've) he didn't twist the knife. He was really trying to forgive her. They really could get over this if she just treated him better.

Hermione wondered if the roles had been reversed, would she have been so quick to forgive him? Would she have put up with being ignored for as long as he had? The resounding no she knew to be the answer brought tears to her eyes and a large lump to her throat.

"I don't deserve you," she choked out as the first tear fell.

"What?" blurted out Ron. "No- you- it was-"

They were the words he had said so many times and had thought ten times more, but this time they were being said to him by the person he had always thought them about. Even though he had felt neglected, he still didn't think he deserved her. Hermione was clearly destined for bigger things. It made sense if occasionally he wasn't at the forefront of her mind.

The look on Hermione's face right now told him that she thought that it was far from okay and that she genuinely believed that he was better than her. Ron wondered how the hell she managed to respond to the statement when he said it to her because right now he was baffled. He still didn't think he deserved her really, so he gave her the only answer that he could think of.

"I reckon you deserve anything you want."

Hermione stared at him through her veil of tears, clearly thinking about something. Ron tried to keep his face impassive and hoped that he had said enough to wipe the misery from her face.

"Do you know what today has taught me? Well, reminded me? I learnt this years ago, really; I'd just forgotten," Hermione asked him in a croaky voice. Ron shook his head and Hermione sniffed before continuing.

"All I want is you," she whispered, pushing his fringe out of his face. Her voice was so sincere that Ron felt like he wanted to just marry her right there and then, the world, their issues and everything else be damned. "If you're here then everything seems to fall into place and, even if it didn't," Hermione sniffed again as she moved forwards so that her lips were just brushing his, "it still wouldn't matter because I'd have you."

Unable to stop himself much longer, Ron pulled Hermione closer to him and thrust his tongue into her mouth, where she eagerly accepted it. Slowly, she crawled on top of him and broke her lips away. Ron was about to protest when she gradually started planting kisses down his neck and then chest. Realising where she was going, Ron felt a certain part of him spring to attention in anticipation.

However, before Ron found himself lost in a haze of Hermione and the wonderful talents that only he knew she possessed, there was one thing he wanted to get cleared up.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" she hummed against his hip bone.

"Y'know earlier when we were arguing? What did you mean by 'covered in boils?'"

* * *

_A/N 2: See y'all next time for the grande finale!_


	9. Here To Stay

_A/N: So, here we are. The final chapter. I would give an excuse as to why it is so late but I don't actually have one. Well, except for the Olympics being more distracting than Finnick Odair. Erm… sorry about that._

_I recently noticed that I'm on over 50 favourite authors lists. Wow. Thank you for that._

_Finally, a quick thank you to ozzel1 for pointing out the potential dangers of magical transportation. She sure does love her safety precautions. _

_And on with the chapter._

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_Today's disclaimer is brought to you by the winner/only entry in the 'Please Write a Disclaimer For Me' competition, napchic. That'll teach me to want a bit of audience participation._

_Disclaimer: No Blink 182s were harmed in the making of this fic. If you maintain a J.K. Rowling for over four hours, please seek immediate medical attention. Do not expose directly to sunlight. Do not feed After Midnight. Lather. Rinse. Repeat._

_She draws and writes funnies! There is no end to the talent!_

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Here To Stay

16th November, 1999

_It's the longest start but the end's not too far away_

_Did you know?_

_I'm here to stay _

Harry yawned as he poured milk onto his cereal and tried to kick-start his brain. He had a late night courtesy of Ginny, despite repeatedly reminding her that he had a performance review meeting this morning. Of course, Ginny merely scoffed and told him that the idea of them sacking _Harry Potter, _even without his outstanding reputation he already had in the Auror department, was hilarious.

As ever, he was unable to say no to her and ended up staying most of the night at the Burrow, something he still didn't feel comfortable with, what with how much Ginny's parents had given him over the years. It just didn't feel right to sneak around behind their backs. It would be a lot easier if they lived together, but Harry wasn't sure if they were ready for that yet. They were still so young – Ginny hadn't long turned eighteen, after all. What was the rush?

In fact, looking at Ron and Hermione's recent trouble had only reinforced his belief that moving in together would be rushing things. Maybe if they weren't constantly under each other's feet then they wouldn't have got to the stage where one of them was moving out? As he fetched himself a spoon, Harry wondered if Ron had managed to find Hermione last night. He hadn't seen or heard anything from either of them since he had come in but he had been rather late. For all he knew, Hermione was at her parents' and Ron was standing outside, refusing to budge until she spoke to him.

Just as he sat down at the long table, Harry heard the lumbering footsteps of someone descending towards the kitchen. He looked up to see a half-asleep Ron staggering towards the opposite side of the table to him. As he threw himself into a chair, Ron scrubbed his eyes roughly and Harry saw that he was missing half of his left eyebrow, a sure sign that Ron had Apparated under pressure. Harry suppressed a grin. It didn't matter how hard he tried, Ron always splinched half an eyebrow if he Apparated himself with his mind elsewhere.

Although, Harry reasoned, he had had a potentially very stressful night, a point proved further when Ron's head dropped onto the table.

"Mornin'," the ginger lump in front of Harry grumbled.

"Good morning to you, too," Harry chuckled. Seeing Ron in the mornings always made him feel more awake. "Um… how did it go last-"

"Good morning, Harry."

Harry's eyes shot to the kitchen door and he saw Hermione walk in and smile at him brightly. It took him a couple of moments to remember that she did live here and that this was all perfectly normal.

"Hermione!" said Harry, trying to hide that he had any knowledge of the row the previous night. "Yeah, morning."

While Harry tried to silently get Ron's attention, Hermione put the kettle on and flicked her wand, sending four slices of bread into the toaster. With Ron now snoring softly on the table, Harry was left to work out what had happened on his own. There didn't seem to be any open hostility between the two of them which could only be an improvement. As Hermione started making tea for the three of them, Harry noticed that her neck had a faint, blurry look to it, something he recognised as a magically-concealed love bite.

Harry smiled as he spooned another mouthful of cereal into his mouth. At least they were on speaking terms.

The toast popped out of the toaster and a second flick of Hermione's wand sent it onto a plate and a third buttered it before sending over to the kitchen table. She placed a mug of tea in front of each of them and went to take a seat next to Ron, while Harry murmured his "thank you". Ron received a sharp poke in the side of the head from her and jumped up. He looked around wildly for a moment before grinning sheepishly and kissing Hermione on the cheek.

"Thanks, love."

"Just try not to fall asleep on it."

"And not get to eat the only meal you can cook without burning?"

"Be quiet."

Listening to their playful banter cemented Harry's belief that whatever Ron did last night must have worked and breathed a sigh of relief.

A yawning Ron stretched his arms high over his head, causing his joints to crack and Hermione to give him a look of disdain as she took a small bite of toast. Unaware that his table manners weren't to Hermione's taste, Ron, still leaning back in his chair, scratched his chest, causing his pyjama top to ride up and reveal a large purple mark just to the left of his hip bone. Harry ducked his head; the less he knew about their make-up process, the happier he was. It did make him wonder why they both seemed hell bent on eating each other though.

As the three of them ate breakfast in a companionable silence, Harry observed his friends for any sign of a rift between them, but he couldn't find one. It hadn't been like this for weeks, the affectionate looks, the casual touches… However, there was still a tense atmosphere around them that Harry couldn't find the cause of.

Ron gradually woke up and seemed happier than Harry could remember seeing him recently. Hermione, too, seemed at ease, but, every so often, Harry noticed that she would bite her lip nervously and glance at one of the two boys.

He continued watching them for signs of what had actually happened last night to make everything appear so content now. Even though they had their 'Not In Front of Harry' rule, they usually ended up breaking it without realising. He was grateful that they had thought of him as it was a real concern of his that they would forget him in light of their relationship, but they were so in love that they really couldn't hide it.

While they didn't ever snog in front of him or anything like that, some of the looks that Ron gave Hermione left nothing to the imagination. She wasn't much better though; Harry had lost count of the amount of times that Hermione had come home fuming after a bad day at work and had announced that she wanted a 'private word' with Ron upstairs. They would return well over an hour later with stupid grins on their faces.

Deciding that whatever had happened he'd be able to ask Ron about it later, Harry picked up his bowl and took it the sink. Behind him, he heard the tell-tale sounds of Ron and Hermione talking about him. He was so used to them having private and sometimes silent conversations without him that he didn't mind.

After he had washed his bowl by hand, taking more time than strictly necessary to give them chance to finish their conversation, Harry went to leave and start getting ready for work.

"Actually, Harry," Hermione called out as he stood up, "we wanted to talk you."

"Oh, right," said Harry mystified. "What's up?"

"Well…" she began. She looked to Ron for assistance. but he only offered her a half-hearted shrug.

The uneasy feeling in his stomach told him that they were about to tell him something big and Harry felt like a child that they were about to inform that they were getting divorced but it didn't mean that they loved him any less. Shaking the image of only seeing Ron at the weekend and Hermione talking him through the emotional upheaval, Harry turned his attention back to the two people sat in front of him.

"There's quite a lot to tell you actually," said Ron as though he had only just realised how much news they had. "Um… shall we do it in order?" he asked Hermione.

"Yes, that'd be best," Hermione agreed. "I suppose the first thing is that I'm going to stop with my parents until the weekend."

Harry tried to keep his face as blank as possible to hide his confusion. Her and Ron seemed to be getting on fine so why was she still moving into her parents'? And why did Ron not seem upset by it anymore? Hadn't he left the house last night with the sole aim of stopping her leaving? Remembering that Hermione moving out was probably meant to be news to him, Harry tried to look mildly surprised.

"Oh. Right. That's…" Harry coughed. "How come?"

"Oh, I just haven't seen them properly in ages so I thought I'd pay them an extended visit," Hermione answered, looking at her hands that were folded on the table in front of her.

Harry had to stop himself from arching his eyebrows. Everything about her was screaming that this was a blatant lie.

"Sounds nice," he said instead.

Ron, apparently sensing that Harry had spotted Hermione's untruthfulness, jumped in to avoid any further questions being asked. "And then at the weekend we're going to go away somewhere, together. Y'know, alone," he added unnecessarily.

Harry gave Ron a mock-confused look. "So you're saying I'm not invited?"

"No, Harry, it isn't like that-" Hermione cried, sounding horrified.

"Hermione, breath," laughed Harry. She gave him a dubious look so he explained, "I get the feeling I wouldn't want to be there anyway."

"Okay, because it isn't that we're excluding you," she continued slowly, as though trying and failing to find the right words. "It's just that you won't be there."

Harry was very tempted to point out the definition of 'exclusion' but she seemed genuinely worried that he would want to tag along with their dirty weekend so he didn't.

"Seriously, Hermione," he said kindly, "it's fine. Where are you going anyway?"

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. "Haven't decided yet."

"I hear Australia is nice this time of year," Harry deadpanned.

Ron laughed. "Pretty expensive if you don't have family over there though."

"Hmm. Not much to do either."

"No, once you've hunted down someone's parents to give them back their memories of a whole other life and their only daughter, Ayers Rock just seems like a large rock."

"Prats," muttered Hermione, rolling her eyes. "Well, that's the news that is more, um, immediate," she continued, trying to drag the conversation back to seriousness.

"There's more?" Harry exclaimed without thinking. Surely they weren't going to tell him what they were planning on doing on their weekend away…

To Harry's further dismay, their reactions did nothing to soothe his worries as Ron snorted and Hermione started looking more nervous.

"There's no easy way of saying this," started Hermione speaking quickly as though she may need to make a hasty exit, "and it has nothing to do with you and I'm really grateful for everything, but we feel that-"

"We're going to move out," interrupted Ron bluntly.

Harry felt his jaw drop but wasn't aware that he had allowed it to. It felt like the kitchen had suddenly been plunged under water; everything was in slow motion and all noise was highly distorted. Hermione shot Ron a furious look, but he merely shrugged at her and turned back to Harry.

He ripped his head out of the water and felt the world return to its normal speed.

"What?"

"Not right now," Hermione said, still looking annoyed at Ron's abruptness. "In fact, not for a few months, but yeah…"

"Oh."

"Oh, Harry," she said, clearly upset, "this isn't because of anything you've done or-"

"It's all right," Harry reassured her with a small smile. "I'm just a bit shocked. I mean, I knew that this was going to happen someday I just didn't expect it to be… today."

"Well, like she said, it'll be months before it happens, mate," Ron reiterated sympathetically. "Turns out most landlords ask for payment from their tenants."

Ron's attempt at humour didn't seem to touch Hermione's worried expression. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"Why are you sorry?" laughed Harry incredulously. "It's not like we're never going to see each other again."

"Of course we will," nodded Ron, putting his arm around Hermione and giving her a small shake. "Now then, there's one more thing we have to tell you."

Again the atmosphere changed and Harry wracked his brains, trying to work out what else they were possibly going to tell him now. The way they were now holding hands under the table and trying to stop grinning goofily at each other told him it was good news, but he couldn't see what could've happened that was better than them getting their relationship back on track.

"If this has anything to do with your sex lives then I really don't want to know," Harry said with a grimace.

"Honestly, Harry-"

"Why? Jealous?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at their simultaneous responses. "Sorry and _no._"

Seemingly unable to withhold their secret anymore, Ron, grinning from ear to ear, turned to Hermione. "Can we tell him now?" he asked excitedly.

"You probably should," chortled Harry, watching Ron acting like a child. "We do have work soon."

There was a split second where they looked at each other, both smiling widely, before Hermione turned to face Harry. She bit her lip and Harry saw a veil of tears cover her eyes.

"We're engaged!" she finally blurted out.

After everything he had seen and done in his short life, it took a lot to shock Harry, but this had him well and truly stumped. His eyes flicked from one beaming face to the other and tried desperately to make sense of the words he thought he had just heard.

"As in 'to be married?'" he croaked eventually.

"Yes."

"To each other?"

"No," Ron said sarcastically, "to Kreacher."

"Wow," he breathed, still unable to process their announcement.

Ron and Hermione.

The boy with the rat and the girl with the books.

His best friends.

The first family he had ever known.

_Married._

Harry wasn't sure how long he stared at them but as their smiles started to slip, he realised that he hadn't actually reacted yet.

"Well, congratulations," he said, trying to make it sound sincere though his whole body still felt strangely numb.

Seemingly unable to hold it in anymore, Hermione darted around the table and Harry stood up just in time for her to throw herself into his arms.

"Thanks, Harry," she squealed, clearly over the moon.

As Hermione slowly cut off his circulation and he squeezed her back, Harry slowly began to realise what had just happened. Less than twenty four hours after a horrendous argument and what looked like a bleak end to their relationship, Ron had somehow managed to pull it back around by proposing.

To say he had never imagined this day would make Harry a liar but he felt none of the happiness he had expected. Instead, he was filled with a strange coldness that seemed worse when juxtaposed with Hermione's joy. Did they honestly think a ring and bit of paper would stop the troubles that had plagued them these past weeks? Was this why Hermione was stopping with her parents for a few days?

Over Hermione's shoulder, Harry glared at Ron, indicating that he was going to have a serious word with him at the next available opportunity. In response, Ron's smile slipped and he mouthed "what?", but Harry just shook his head and Hermione pulled away.

Still smiling though a few tears had escaped, Hermione seemed oblivious to Harry's less than enthusiastic mood. Seeing her so happy made him feel a bit nauseous. Harry knew that she loved Ron and had probably wanted to marry him, but he couldn't believe that she would agree to do so with their relationship so fragile. Surely the whole thing was going to end in heartbreak for them both? What the hell had Ron been thinking?

"Can you keep it quiet?" Hermione asked, dragging Harry back to their conversation. "We don't really want anyone else to know until we get back and we want to tell them ourselves and-"

"My lips are sealed," he cut in with the best attempt at a smile he could muster.

"Thanks," she grinned gratefully before returning to her usual business-like demeanour. "Right, I'm going to get ready."

"We've got ages yet!" exclaimed Ron aghast.

"Yes," Hermione said with a trademark eye roll, "but I want to look into places for this weekend before work, as well as what the weather is going to be like so we can pack accordingly."

She smiled sweetly at him before turning on the spot and heading for the stairs.

"Oh, Hermione," Ron called after her, "could you-"

"No, you're packing your own case," she replied without turning around.

Ron sighed heavily. "Fine, just don't plan on doing anything that involves-"

"Camping," she finished for him. She paused at the door and faced him as she opened it. "I know."

The pair of them shared a smile before Hermione left the room. Harry waited until he heard her reach the ground floor landing before rounding on Ron.

"What?" he asked, looking unsure of Harry's thunderous expression.

"When I said fix it," Harry hissed at him, "I didn't mean _propose_!"

"I didn't _plan _on proposing!" Ron fired back defensively.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "And that makes it better?"

Ron opened his mouth to retort but seemed to think better of it and frowned. "What is your problem?"

"You two can't be in the same room as each other without resorting to violence," Harry answered, holding his hands up, "and now you're getting _married_?"

"We're better now."

Harry laughed derisively. "One morning without trying to kill each other and suddenly you're ready for a lifelong commitment?"

Ron's frown became more pronounced. "Why am I the one getting the bollocking for this?"

"Because Hermione is terrifying when she gets an idea in her head," Harry shouted, feeling the strangeness of the morning finally taking his toll on him, "and I'm guessing you're the one that popped the question?"

"Well, yeah," Ron mumbled.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses and tried to find the patience to get him through this bizarre conversation. He didn't really think Ron would be so reckless as to propose, nor that Hermione would be as naïve as to say yes, but all the evidence he could see was contradicting this. "Tell me you don't think the past few months are going to disappear just because you've got engaged."

When Harry looked up, he saw Ron looking as though he wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground. As an unspoken rule, neither of them ever spoke in depth about their respective relationships, but Harry needed to hear some kind of explanation. He cared too much about them both to watch them throw away everything they had by rushing into a marriage that neither of them was ready for.

"You've missed quite a bit of the story, mate," Ron said quietly.

"I know," Harry sighed, "but I can't see how even you two can go from storming out and moping in the kitchen to becoming engaged in one night."

"Are you going to let me explain?"

Harry stared at Ron, still sat in front of him, arching a brow at him.

"Yeah," he sighed as he sat back down in his chair. "Just give me a minute to process this. What happened when you left here last night?"

Ron took a deep breath and seemed to collect his thoughts. However, the longer they sat there, the more confused he appeared to be so he just ploughed on with his story.

"Well, I thought Hermione would be at work so I went to the ministry. I was just going to give her some flowers and ask her if she wanted to talk, y'know?"

"But instead you proposed," Harry said tonelessly.

Ron paid him no notice. "I went up to her office and she was talking to someone. Turns out it was Bale," said Ron, his expression darkening.

"You proposed in front of Bale?" Harry had been wrong. This story could become weirder.

"_No_," Ron replied looking disgusted. "I was just about to go in when I thought I saw them kissing-"

"What?" Harry blurted out. _Kissing? _Ron had caught Hermione kissing another bloke and he was sitting here talking about it? Ron himself was too caught up in his story to explain_. Or maybe he just didn't want to dwell on this part_, Harry thought bewildered.

"That's not important," Ron said dismissively. "So I sort of… um…"

"Proposed?" Harry asked weakly, still reeling from discovering that, not only had Hermione and Bale kissed, but that Ron didn't seem too bothered by it.

"Of course not," laughed Ron. "I stormed off, but then Hermione followed me and explained that Bale came on to her and that she told him to fuck off-"

"Hermione told him to fuck off?"

"Well, Hermione's version of 'fuck off'."

"I still can't see the proposal."

Ron frowned, apparently annoyed with his story being interrupted again now that he was getting in to the swing of it. "Wait for it. Well, I was still pretty angry about it so we got into this huge row."

"And then you proposed?"

"No. Stop interrupting."

"Sorry."

Ron coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I sort of called her a slag and she said she might sleep with another bloke-"

Just when Harry thought it couldn't get any worse…

"Tell me you didn't propose-"

"Of course I didn't do it then!" cried Ron indignantly. "After that, we sort of decided to split up."

Harry waited patiently for Ron to finish his story, but he just looked at Harry expectantly. He was completely at a loss for something to say. What had started off as a bad situation and somehow turned infinitely worse and Harry couldn't see for the life of him how the two of them had managed to turn it around.

"And then I proposed," Ron finished awkwardly.

"Then-" Harry gawped at him. "And she said _yes_?" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yes," said Ron as though it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "You two deserve each other."

"Thanks."

The two of them stood in an uncomfortable silence, both of them trying to get their heads around the events of the past few hours. Harry was confused and shocked by a lot of what Ron had just told him, but one thing definitely stood out above the rest.

"Ron," Harry began delicately, "when you said you saw her kissing Bale…"

Ron's expression hardened immediately. "He kissed her," he growled. "She didn't kiss him back."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. If either of them cheated on the other he couldn't see them being forgiven, not to mention it putting him a difficult position. He had always tried to stay neutral in all of their fights, but if one of them ever hurt the other that badly, he would have a hard time trying not to lay into the one who had done the cheating.

Although, if he knew his friends as well as he thought he did, he couldn't see either of them ever being unfaithful. Even when they weren't speaking to each other, if they were in the same room as each other, then there was only one place that their focus was going to be.

Well, unless in that same room there was also a book or a Cannons match on the wireless, but no one was perfect.

"So, Bale really was trying to split you two up?" Harry asked, unable to meet Ron's eyes. He started tracing the grains in the wooden table.

"Well, trying to shove his tongue down her throat is hardly giving us his blessing," glowered Ron.

Harry looked up to see that Ron was now the one unable to make eye contact. Although it wasn't from guilt like it had been for him; it was from trying to control his temper.

"Shit… I never…" Harry began, having no idea what he was meant to say. "Ron, I am so sorry."

"S'alright," he shrugged.

"No, I-I had no idea! I thought- He seemed all right!" Harry spluttered. Ron didn't appear to want to comment and Harry was still too shocked to add anything else.

The silence continued to swell until Harry couldn't take it any longer.

"Is he still alive?"

Ron shrugged again, clearly not caring either way.

"I just thought you were, y'know," Harry said quietly, "being jealous and stuff."

Ron laughed bitterly. "No one else believed me either."

The quiet hurt in Ron's voice cut Harry like a knife. He was his best friend and Harry hadn't even attempted to see everything from his point of view. It was like when he thought that Malfoy had been a Death Eater and no one listened to him. Harry could still remember the frustration that even his friends wouldn't listen to him.

"That's not the point," Harry said, shaking his head. "I should've seen it."

"Are you seriously turning this into a Harry Potter Guilt Trip?" Ron asked harshly.

"No, I just-"

"Drop it, Harry."

"But-"

"Fine!" Ron exploded. "It pisses me off that my best mate thought I was stupid enough to make the biggest mistake of my life twice!"

Harry looked down and had the good grace to look as ashamed as he felt. He had been _so sure _that Bale was a decent guy… Admittedly, he hadn't spent a whole lot of time with him, but when he had spoken to Bale he seemed to be genuinely enthusiastic about improving werewolf rights and he could be pretty funny. His jokes had been at Ron's expense occasionally, but he had never vicious… had he?

He was so used to seeing the other Weasleys and his friends from Hogwarts having a laugh that Harry hadn't thought twice. Now, looking back, he realised that Bale had only ever made jokes about Ron if Hermione was also present. He hadn't been joking around; he had been highlighting Ron's faults.

Somewhere under his shame and an over-whelming sense of stupidity, Harry also couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for Bale. Anyone who had met Ron and Hermione knew that she was well aware of his faults and loved him for them for some reason. He had never stood a chance.

"You're doing my paperwork for the next month," Ron said forcefully.

Harry sighed. "Fair play."

"And my washing."

"Okay."

Harry looked up to see Ron was clearly thinking of other ways he could atone for believing in him. He couldn't help but feel a cold sweat coming on when mischief flashed across Ron's eyes. It had been happening more and more frequently since he had started working with George.

"I'm going to mention the 'Eyes as Green as a Fresh Pickled Toad' song in front of George the next time I see him," he said, barely able to hold back his smirk. "It's been a while since I've heard him sing it. I hope he hasn't forgotten the words."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but closed it again when he saw Ron raise his eyebrows. He really had to get him to stop working at that shop.

"I s'pose I deserve that," Harry finally muttered.

His stomach sinking when he saw Ron appeared to still be considering more punishments, Harry waited for what else Ron could possibly think of. Slowly, the tips of his ears turned red and Ron rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I'm going to need a best man as well."

Harry froze and gaped at Ron, who gave him a nervous smile in return.

"I - erm," Harry coughed, "I think I can do that."

"Good," nodded Ron seriously, "because Malfoy is on holiday that week and McLaggen is getting his hair done."

Harry laughed and tried to comprehend what was happening. His best friends were getting married while he still felt like he had only just left school. He was going to be Ron's best man, Ron, who had four brothers who would happily fill the role.

But Ron had chosen him, despite him putting his best friend through hell over the years.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, trying to somehow convey his gratitude. "Y'know, for asking."

Ron made a strange movement that was halfway between a shrug and a nod. "Well, even if you have got terrible judgment you're still… y'know…"

"Yeah," Harry swallowed. "Yeah, I do."

Even though they had been the closest of friends for over eight years now, they had never really been comfortable with expressing any kind of fondness towards each other. This conversation had veered dangerously close to outright affection and both of them were shuffling awkwardly as the kitchen filled with a sense of unease.

"So I take it you approve?"

Ron had asked the question jokingly, but Harry could detect a sense of genuine concern behind his half-smile. It was then that he realised that, since they had announced their engagement, Harry hadn't really shown any real support for his friends.

"Shit- of course I do!" Harry laughed shakily. "I was just a bit shocked. I thought you were going to split up and now this…"

"We would've got back together," Ron said automatically. Harry was taken aback by the fierce look on Ron's face as he said it and he felt even worse for ever doubting that he and Hermione could go the distance.

In fact, looking at him now, Harry felt almost disgusted with himself for not having more faith in Ron. He wasn't the child who he had shared his sweets with on a train, or even the teenager who he had helped him make up his dream diary for Divination, but an almost entirely different person. He had self-confidence, could control his temper and had matured into a fine Auror and a truly amazing person. For what could have been the fiftieth time in his life, Harry wondered how Ron could ever feel over-shadowed by him when he was just as good as, and possibly even better, than him.

"I know. I- I think I've always sort of knew it would end up like this," Harry said quietly. He ran a hand through his scruffy hair and felt his face break into a wide smile. "Listen, mate – congratulations. I mean it," he said sincerely before adding with a chuckle, "Only you could pull this off."

Harry held out his hand and Ron shook it, smiling with a distinct look of pride on his face.

"Cheers," he grinned. There was an awkward pause and the two men made uncomfortable faces at each other before pulling each other into a short hug, only the second of their entire friendship.

"Having an affair already?"

Harry and Ron sprung apart and spun around to see Hermione leaning against the door frame with a smirk playing about her lips.

"No, we're just-" Ron hastily said. "Weren't we?" he added, turning to Harry.

"Yeah," he nodded, having no idea what he was agreeing to.

In response, Hermione simply continued to fight the smile trying to creep its way onto her face. "I can go back upstairs if-"

"All right, all right," Ron cut in, rolling his eyes, "we get it."

"Very funny," Harry added.

"What?" asked Hermione innocently. "You two make a lovely couple. In fact-"

But before she could finish her sentence, Ron had crossed the kitchen in two strides and picked her up in a fireman's lift.

"RON!" Hermione screamed. "Put me down!"

Instead of heeding his girlfriend – _fiancée, _Harry reminded himself - Ron simply laughed.

"Hear something, Harry?" he asked as Hermione started punching his back.

Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Don't get me involved."

"If you don't put me down, Ron Weasley-" Hermione began in a threatening voice before Ron cut her off by slapping her arse.

Realising that this was going to end in an argument or, well… something uglier than an argument, Harry decided to grab the last piece of toast off of Ron's plate and try and sneak past them and out of the door. He heard the scuffle escalate and, when he reached the door, he turned back to see that one of his predictions had been right.

Still with Ron holding her around her thighs, Hermione had managed to pull herself up and was holding herself upright on Ron's shoulders. The two of them shared a look full of the love and challenge that filled their relationship and that Harry would never fully understand even if he spent the rest of his life around them. It was then that it struck Harry that he probably would.

As Hermione ducked her head to give Ron a kiss that he eagerly received, Harry wondered if they even remembered he was still in the room. With a final chuckle and a shake of his head, Harry kicked the door open and backed his way out of the room as his best friends broke their own 'Not In Front of Harry' rule once more.

* * *

_A/N 2: So that was my first attempt at a proper grown-up story with a real plot and everything. I'm so proud that I'm going to print it off and stick it on my fridge next to my painted hand print._

_A stupendous thank you to Anne Mary Ellen, LillyMay77, wanderinon, tashrusms, wazlib88, StephMcG, HilaryWeasley, fanohermione, Inkteardrops, mkoala, Jordan202, AlwaysLily, spewmate, ObsessedRHShipper, ozzel1, smilelino, Joanne Blacke rh, JustAnotherGuy100, LilAl260, Jose, Fred, MonkeyBrains, RonKing, Cupid's Heart of Gold, master999, Sarden, Sandrinha2, hprbdfan, RyanRow02, fixed delusion, asyuraniel, napchic, Memorandom, iyamei, selene86, Jo2012, theendofthefairytale, wrackspurt314, thesecondshelf, AlwaysKatie7, nirdoodle, muggleindenial28, jennimiley, Zalini, chandlerbing555, Dobby357, earthlover8815, fihcan, gurrumaiss, JessicaLaurenWealsey, kaill, Majorjewls, md17, RainySun, weasleyking93, Zibb, BayleeNicole, bootsm, cole246, colombiangal, Harrypotterandpercyjacksonfa n, heebeejeebees,JustYourVoice, katemch7, love-nectar, LunaZola, MoronTodai, merderfan93, monroefan74, montgomery99, neuroticmess, Padesoy, Poppicake, ranDeeemachelle, reader91, redandgoldlions, reyes000, sheridan19, Soxylady, Suelias, susieQ41, thegirlinredandgold, TheseWords-MyDiary, TisforTatty, and various anons and guests for reviewing, alerting and favouriting the above scribble._

_You have made me laugh, vastly improved bad days, regaled me with awesome stories, politely pointed out the flaws in my writing and pushed me to get better at this. That's right; at the time of writing there has not been one full-on flame for the entire story. Thank you all for being lovely, intelligent and kind even when you didn't like a chapter or scene. It has been a pleasure speaking to you all._

_So an injured wrist and a very close call with a speeding car later, this story is now over and, contrary to what I believed, it hasn't killed me. Result._

_I hope you enjoyed at least a couple of words of this. Or maybe even the odd sentence._

_Oh! And don't forget to vote SSY in the Romione Awards! I'll lower taxes and stuff if I win! Take a badge and a leaflet!_

_And yes, this will get a sequel but not for a few months yet._

_In a bit._

_-HalfASlug_


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